Welcome to Eureka Street
Looking for thought provoking articles?Subscribe to Eureka Street and join the conversation.
Passwords must be at least 8 characters, contain upper and lower case letters, and a numeric value.
Eureka Street uses the Stripe payment gateway to process payments. The terms and conditions upon which Stripe processes payments and their privacy policy are available here.
Please note: The 40-day free-trial subscription is a limited time offer and expires 31/3/24. Subscribers will have 40 days of free access to Eureka Street content from the date they subscribe. You can cancel your subscription within that 40-day period without charge. After the 40-day free trial subscription period is over, you will be debited the $90 annual subscription amount. Our terms and conditions of membership still apply.
Never hoards it, for he has new urns to make, for us to admire and, sometimes, to love.
I saw a gloved hand at the window and that was it. The experience turned out to be the one time when I saw the Queen 'in the flesh'. I had gone under duress, having even at that young age vestigial republican tendencies. A few weeks ago I went with more enthusiasm to see another Queen.
There is a story that the king, having learned surfing at Bondi, introduced the sport to Tonga. I asked if he was ever fearful of sharks. 'There is nothing to fear,' he said. 'Look them straight in the eye like this!' At which he squared his shoulders in a demonstration of regal might which I shall never forget.
Text is from Fr Frank Brennan SJ's St Patrick's Day Celebration talk at the Australian Centre for Christianity and Culture, 17 March 2012.
In trying to convince my atheist goddaughter to embrace her Catholic schooling, I found an unlikely role model. I'd never thought of Greer as a chip off the old block of a convent education. Now I realised that that's exactly what she was. Published 22 February 2011
A hickory tree peed his pants. A striped bass assaulted an eggplant. A teacher cursed in Gaelic into her mic. Then my kid brother, Tommy, spontaneously stepped forward and sang that jingle. Some moments are unforgettable for reasons we can't articulate. My dad says he'll savour that one on his deathbed.
There's nothing to say a father who had hoped for a miracle, but instead watched his child wilt and die. His sleep is filled either with dreams where she's alive, or nightmares where he watches her die all over again. I'm not sure which would be worse: to fear going to sleep, or to regret waking up.
If Rudd was re-installed as leader, Howard's Lazarus impersonation and Menzies' return to office in 1949 would have been outdone by the most remarkable twist ever in Australian politics. Only insiders know whether it might happen. Only voters know whether it might work.
The faith of the Irish in politics, economics and religion is at a low ebb, and for the most understandable of reasons. It is not a famine, but it is mighty grim. There are tens of thousands coming here under the 457 visa and the Irish Working Holiday Visa.
Sydney mother Grace Wang was left paralysed from the waist down due to a botched epidural. When I first heard her story I recalled my own epidural experience with my firstborn, looking fixedly down at the floor trying to ignore the blood pooling around my feet. Childbirth can be a murderous business.
The conventional homily on the miracle of the lame man focuses on his faith and hope. But Irish poet Seamus Heaney draws attention to the faith, hope and charity of the man's friends, who will go to any trouble to help their mate in his hour of need.
Someone now cast in forgetfulness, out cold – dumped down in a sleeping bag moulded like a burial mound. And by their side neatly aligned, threads of an abandoned bedside.
73-84 out of 146 results.