Sonia By Francisco Icasiano Essay


ayside: as a child ho nd all things pure and true in her innocent eyes. I shallloo in those eyes and see so much condence and faith hen I feel that I amlosing my on faith and condence I shall dra from my memory of her a child*senthusiasm for life, hen my heart is heavy and my eyes dim ith age. 6his is myideal, to see the hole life ith a mind melloed by age, though a heart foreveryoung - ise and happy! 7ays before she died, I had a premonition to herdeath2 but I dismiss it, consoling myself ith the thought that if such a thingshould come to pass -heaven forbid - I should perhaps be rearded for becominga true, sincere and humble artist through the su8ering that ould come from sucha shocing e+perience. 4or the rst time in my life, the idea of becoming an artistsuddenly lost in its chance. I ould rather remain obscure than lost itsgreatest masterpiece, rought in my on blood, and polish by the greatest lovethat I as capable of giving. 9ie the reeds in the river, I ould rather eep myleaves and oers that be cut up by the great an into the ute. 6he melody of the ind as enough for me as I bent rhythmically ith its bloing. I ouldrefuse the greater melody of art that e+acts so much.

)ut hen her hour came the blade of death cleave my heart, I felt as if I,too, had died and a ne soul had emerged,morebeautiful, because cleanse of all bitterness.1o true it isas poor ;scar 3ilde rote that, the "leasureis for thebeautiful body, but pain for the beautifulsoul." )uthat costly noledge this rst. <+perience has indeed taen aay more than ithas been able to give. It has suddenly occurred to me that the real artist ismeasured by his ability to utili/e misfortune in recreating the soul. I say,"recreating" )ecause art is the recreation of life an e+perience, into that hichsooths and ennobles the soul2 if a man ith any artistic pretensions allos sorroto destroy him, he is a mere artisan, incapable of producing anything of orth2for, the rst thing an artist must recreate, before true art can be reali/ed, is hison soul. 0oreover, sorro must crush, ere it can reshape the man in s mold of glory. 6he reed must have cut to pieces, and holes bored through it, before it canhave produced such magic melodies as their sound. 6he sun on hill forgot to die.'nd the lilies revived, and the dragony=ame bac to dream on the river.

The Will of the River -Alfredo Gonzales Jr.; Sonia Francisco Icasiano;

3383 WordsJul 5th, 201214 Pages

The Will of the River -Alfredo Gonzales Jr. BY MY WIFE’S ancestral home flows a river. For a dozen summers I have visited it, and almost every year I make an effort to trace its course back to its source in the neighboring hills; I do not consider my vacation there complete without doing this. In common with other streams of its kind, our river suffers much from the summer drought. I have seen it so shrunken that fish lay lifeless on the parched sand and gravel of its bed. But this past summer I saw something I had never seen before, though I know that if I had been sufficiently observant in other abnormally dry years, I am sure I could not have failed to notice the same thing earlier.
2 One morning last April, in company with a student…show more content…

9 On the other hand, think of other lives that, like our river, kept their way even to the end of their course.
10 I believe it was on our way back from the hills that the lesson of faithfulness in the performance of one’s duty was forcefully suggested to me. The truth occurred to me that nature often fulfills her duty more faithfully than man does his.
11 And what is the duty of a river? It is to furnish safe running water for plant and fish and fowl and for man and beast. The river is not there just to flow on and enjoy itself. The river must play its part in the processes of nature; to live, in other words, for the rest of creation.
12 And so it should be with the life of man. It is not to be lived unto itself alone for its own joy and satisfaction but for others in glad and devoted ministry. How life and beauty and goodness, indeed, would perish from the world if man and nature should fail in their duty! If our river had not remained faithful to its duty, instead of a landscape picturesque with the varied green of the foliage of shrubs and trees and gay with the voices of the birds singing and calling to one another in the branches that April morning, there would have been spread before us a wide expanse of desolate and lifeless land, fit only for the wanderings of Cain.
13 For part of the ministering duty of a river is to flow on and on, otherwise be foul and unfit for use. There is music in running water. Bacong, by

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