tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61378862011-04-22T06:27:56.675+02:00writings, thoughts, poetry, updates Troyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598377792768741236noreply@blogger.comBlogger211100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137886.post-1107255208357485722005-02-01T11:50:00.000+01:002006-05-24T12:34:55.780+02:00

I have a new home.Please visit my new site called "t(r)oymarbles" at www.troymarbles.com

Troyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598377792768741236noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137886.post-1102416430890217982004-12-07T11:34:00.000+01:002004-12-07T11:47:10.890+01:00

a monologue by Troy Cady ©Copyright October 2004. Madrid, Spain. Hunter’s Gifts by Troy B. Cady. Special Note: This play is protected under copyright law and performance is strictly prohibited without the express consent of the author. Though production is generally granted royalty free, please contact the author for performance rights. Synopsis: Hunter recalls a time in his

Troyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598377792768741236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137886.post-1100797647860949212004-11-18T18:03:00.000+01:002004-11-18T18:07:27.860+01:00

Dear Johanna, This is a very special day for you. Today, you will be baptized. As you think about baptism, I wanted to share with you a little of its heart. So, I’ve written you this letter. It’s hard to know how to start, so I’ll just cut right to it: Baptism is art. More specifically, baptism is dramatic art. In your baptism, we are going to re-enact a drama involving a bad

Troyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598377792768741236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137886.post-1098633211294596652004-10-24T17:51:00.000+02:002004-10-24T17:53:31.293+02:00

by Heather Cady I stand before You Shuffling my feet, Rubbing my gritty eyes. Miserable in my shame and guilt. I clutch the list of my sins Behind my back so You won't see. But the look in Your eye says You have seen it Already You beckon me to bring it to You, unbending my stubborn fingers with a

Troyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598377792768741236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137886.post-1095950497470104372004-09-23T16:32:00.000+02:002004-09-23T16:41:37.470+02:00

Dear Meaghan, This morning you invited Mom and Dad to the birthday party of a very special person to you: your doll, Sarah. The invitation read on the front: “Happy Birthday, Daddy.” At first, I thought you were celebrating my birthday, but then I read on the inside that it was really for “Serah”. You folded a piece of A4 paper in half, drew a picture and some balloons on the front and

Troyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598377792768741236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137886.post-1095949455258343222004-09-23T16:19:00.000+02:002004-09-23T16:24:15.256+02:00

"Peace of heart that is won by refusing to bear the common yoke of human sympathy is a peace unworthy of a Christian. To seek tranquility by stopping our ears to the cries of human pain is to make ourselves not Christian but a kind of degenerate stoic having no relation either to stoicism or Christianity. … True peace comes not by a retreat from the world but by the overpowering presence of

Troyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598377792768741236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137886.post-1095949173947076352004-09-23T16:17:00.000+02:002004-09-23T16:19:33.946+02:00

“…our lives are mostly a constant evasion of ourselves.” T.S. Eliot, as quoted by Anders Österling, Permanent Secretary of the Swedish Academy during the presentation speech for the Nobel Prize in Literature, 1948. "The only wisdom we can hope to acquire is the wisdom of humility." T.S. Eliot, as quoted by Gustaf Hellström of the Swedish Academy prior to Eliot’s banquet speech for the Nobel

Troyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598377792768741236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137886.post-1095949043123653942004-09-23T16:12:00.000+02:002004-09-23T16:17:23.123+02:00

"Tradition is not a dead load which we drag along with us, and which in our youthful desire for freedom we seek to throw off. It is the soil in which the seeds of coming harvests are to be sown, and from which future harvests will be garnered." Gustaf Hellstrom; Nobel Lectures, Literature 1901-1967, Elsevier Publishing Company, Amsterdam.

Troyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598377792768741236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137886.post-1095948755942454022004-09-23T16:09:00.000+02:002004-09-23T16:12:35.943+02:00

3 quotes: "Our first task is not to forgive, but to learn to be the forgiven. Too often to be ready to forgive is a way of exerting control over another. We fear accepting forgiveness from another because such a gift makes us powerless, and we fear the loss of control involved. … Only by learning to accept God's forgiveness as we see it in the life and death of Jesus can we acquire the power

Troyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598377792768741236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137886.post-1095948109581091582004-09-23T15:51:00.000+02:002004-09-23T16:01:49.583+02:00

following is the opening scene of a play I'm working on. I hope you enjoy this "teaser." The Leaf scene 1a (Black. We hear music. Light piano. About 20 seconds. The lights fade up. As they approach full, the music fades. We see GRANDFATHER, dressed in black suit, white shirt, and plain black tie. There is nothing around him.) GRANDFATHER: He was always a good boy. And if you believe

Troyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598377792768741236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137886.post-1095947170674231912004-09-23T15:34:00.000+02:002004-09-23T15:46:10.673+02:00

a very short monologue SOMEBODY: Winter came in August to the northern hemisphere this year. Chill wind, pale moon, shorter days, and biting frost. You can’t breath normally in this kind of weather. Usually, you’d be able to gulp great tanks of air without even thinking about it, but this summer the cold burns your lungs if you breath too deeply. It’s like inhaling fire, really. Strange

Troyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598377792768741236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137886.post-1095945853946836692004-09-23T15:18:00.000+02:002004-09-23T15:24:13.946+02:00

Ephesians 4:2 says, “Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.” Today, let’s take a deep look at the virtue of humility. We’re going to do this by asking 3 questions: “Why is humility important?”, “What is humility?”, and “What are some concrete ways I can practice humility?” First, “Why is humility important?” There are at least two big reasons: (One)

Troyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598377792768741236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137886.post-1095945504152561622004-09-23T15:07:00.000+02:002004-09-27T10:50:51.363+02:00

Ephesians 4:2 says, “Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.” Tonight, we’re going to take a deeper look at gentleness. We’re going to ask two questions: 1. Why is gentleness important? and 2. How can I practice gentleness? First: Why is gentleness important? I’ve thought of 3 reasons. First, gentleness matters because people are God’s precious creation.

Troyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598377792768741236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137886.post-1095944814998681302004-09-23T15:05:00.000+02:002004-09-23T15:06:54.996+02:00

He is Spain’s first astronaut to “walk” into outer space, and his name is Miguel López Alegría. He joined the NASA program in the early 1990’s and he completed his first flight into space in 1995. A few years ago, he took a second trip on which he participated in an Extra Vehicular Activity (translation: “a walk in space.”) He tells how it felt, what it was like: “I was very surprised at how

Troyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598377792768741236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137886.post-1095944691569848122004-09-23T15:01:00.000+02:002004-09-23T15:04:51.570+02:00

Sandy Pittman went on an excursion to Mount Everest with a small group of people in 1996. Here’s what she took with her: two laptop computers, a video camera, two tape recorders, a CD-ROM, a printer, solar panels and batteries, and (yes!) an espresso machine. When she went to Antarctica she took with her, in the spirit of true adventure, a TV and a VCR. You think that maybe she could have gotten

Troyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598377792768741236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137886.post-1095944456585002122004-09-23T14:58:00.000+02:002004-09-23T15:00:56.586+02:00

In India they have a strange attraction for thrill-seekers called “The Well of Death”. The Well is somewhat like a race track that is constructed above the ground, but it isn’t just a normal race track: Instead of the normal oval shape, it is perfectly circular. And here’s the dangerous part: the well has sides about 7 metres high that slope steeply from the ground, and it takes all of 4 or 5

Troyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598377792768741236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137886.post-1095944299078955862004-09-23T14:48:00.000+02:002004-09-23T14:58:19.080+02:00

Recently, I visited Barcelona with Heather and the kids, after having been gone for about a year. We had a great time seeing old friends, laughing about old times. During this visit, whenever we got together with people, I heard one phrase repeated more than any other. Guess what it was… It wasn’t “Golly, I’ve missed you.” It wasn’t “So, how’ve you been?” It wasn’t even “You look good!” The

Troyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598377792768741236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137886.post-1095942292764029242004-09-23T14:22:00.000+02:002004-09-23T14:24:52.763+02:00

adam's apple: went unplucked gravity picked fell headlong levity dimmed worm inside blackened, thin bruised body dirty skin grounded, rotting parched, unbitten shriveled, leaking cracked, unbidden little boy: sneaking sister, scared: peaking cautious boy: hearing sounds sister, frail: peering 'round furtive thief: whispering sister: cold,

Troyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598377792768741236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137886.post-1095940346643796372004-09-23T13:39:00.000+02:002004-09-23T13:55:19.356+02:00

Time: During the civil rights era. Place: Southern United States. Synopsis: Chuck is a white man, the son of a bigoted father. While a child, Chuck had a friendship with Oliver, an African American. Chuck’s dad forbids the friendship, but love will not be chained. As the two boys become men, Chuck finds himself caught in the crossfire of an explosive situation, because of his

Troyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598377792768741236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137886.post-1095925309960697602004-09-23T09:38:00.000+02:002004-09-28T17:34:31.696+02:00

Muse, make life a song . May diction elongate (& meaning compact) and well-born(e) words form short bridges ; may time’s patient cadence linger for singers to catch up so Harmony’s recaptur’d and rest serve resolution . But, Muse above all above all above all M use … score my heart: (take note) slice my soul with your staff .

Troyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16598377792768741236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137886.post-1069954971920839342003-11-27T18:42:00.000+01:002003-11-28T08:44:11.236+01:00

Time: The present. Place: A forest. Synopsis: The character calls himself Everyman, but he clearly is a real person with a real name. He’s an orphan, searching for identity. He grew up in a “stable” home, until everything fell apart. That’s when he found out he didn’t really belong. So, he ran away. In this scene, we see him in his new home, his final destination, the forest. Author’

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