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IntellectualAmmo

Hunger for Atlantis

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My 5 star review has been approved and published by Amazon of Pandora's novel, "Hunger for Atlantis". It's a very unusual form for a review to take, since it's written as a 3,350 word poem. If you find my review helpful, simply hit the "Yes" button after reading it, if you don't, then hit "No". It's important that you answer, though you don't have to. This book I take very seriously and regard it to be among the very finest and most important books one can read in Romantic Realism today. It was recently published.
Excerpts: [no spoilers]
I wish to draw your attention to the School for Self-Esteem. The School is an excellent example of thriving children. Much smarter than the average child, they develop because they are given the freedom to develop. No hands force them. There are no ‘Hands All Over’ making them disciplined. They discipline themselves. They work peacefully. They are free to choose. No one tells them what to do. No one should tell us what to do.
They were very quiet, going about their work with reverence. They treated the learning tools delicately, as if the tools were sacred icons. They selected objects from the shelves. When they were finished with didactic tools, they returned them, carefully placing the objects where they had found them. They talked quietly to others, in hushed tones, expressing their admiration for each other's work.
Professor Vandemeer thought that it seemed as if the workshop were not a part of a school - but that it were part of a temple. He thought that the children seemed happy, as if happiness came from work that they were doing. They were proud, as if pride came from how well they did their work. They weren't striving to outdo their peers, but as if they were trying to outdo themselves; from a standard or a measurement that did not come from a teacher, not from the others, not from external surroundings - but that came from within.
He was driven with the thought that one day he would achieve his objective; his mind was the only motive force he knew; his will had kept him up throughout the night, the tortuous days, the long years. He was driven by the pleasure of achieving according to his highest ability.
She simply wanted to be happy. She stood on the cold earth, on the unforgiving and unyielding earth. All she had was one simple desire: to do whatever was right.
Brock’s selection of paintings and sculptures at Sans Soucie portrayed a strong link to reality. A man looked like a man, a woman like a woman, a flower like a flower:—shapes of objects as they appeared in reality—knowable images. […] Every artistic image had a strong resemblance to real life.
Danicka had replied, “Mrs. Glasson, there are no such things as natural ideas already imprinted on the mind. The mind begins as an empty slate. You can’t awaken what’s not there.”
He loved his work. His rewards came from his sense of purpose, his accomplishments; and from his greatest tool: his mind.
One evening, she said to him, “Wouldn’t it be better to be happy today? Doing whatever you really love? Do it for yourself. Not others.” He studied her while she was speaking. “Like the children at the School for Self-Esteem. Shouldn’t you do it for yourself? Not for glory in the eyes of others. Use your mind to its greatest ability. Do it for the present moment. Wouldn’t that take care of the future? Do it today and tomorrow, everyday, one day after another. The future is just a collection of days. If you add up the days that you’re happy, you’ll be happy all along.

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