The Life and Literary Times of Catherine Julia Jefferson: The Clockmaker's Clocks

12 December 2007

The Clockmaker's Clocks

There are days when I think that I have let things get very confused in my novel--that Mark is too much a reflection of myself. There are other days when I deny it because I hate to admit that it is true. I hate to admit that my writing means that much too me--that it is the ultimate reflection of myself. But it is, and I know that. Mark is my doppleganger; he is me laid to words. Therefore, it is fitting that his beliefs should match mine.

The times he had tried to convert—to Atheism, to Agnosticism, to Deism, to the Truth—to the ever-changing Doctrine of Doubt.

Sounds remarkably like me speaking. But apparently, I am a...

What spirituality is for you?

Deist

You are, in fact, a Deist. You believe in a clockmaker God who created the universe and initiated the natural equilibrium, but not a "personal god."

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And I think Mark is, too.

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The Best Thing I Have Ever Written

He turned and walked to the window with the crimson curtains behind the desk. The stars seemed a woven tapestry above their heads. They were trapped beneath a bolt of dark silk embroidered with golden stars. It was a mirage—a hoax; it was a joke of the Gods, teasing men with the hope of attaining something unattainable. They know they cannot reach the stars, but that mere light above—that beacon of the numinous—fills their souls to the brim with futile hope. They race to the Heavens, believing, in the spirit of Michelangelo, that even if they miss the stars, they will reach the moon. They essay to conquer the cosmos—to bring the very buttes of Olympus into the dominion of men; yet, they are but mortal men and can have no contest with the immortal, and thus the immortal flaunt their undying superiority by draping this tapestry of unrequited hope about the shivering world. It would be better, Ralph thought tersely as he closed the curtains, had they blotted out the stars and darkened the sun.