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sinclair

"And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought..."

name: Jeffrey David Sinclair

is: the one who was, a fightor pilot, commander of Babylon 5, a True Seeker, Entil'zha Valen, awfully groovy (well, he is! -p)

wants: to find his purpose in life

birthday: May 3, 2218

hometown: someplace on Mars

family: His parents are dead; his father was a fighter pilot, his mother, Gemma Gildea, a literature professor. He has a brother, Malcolm. He was engaged to Catherine Sakai until she was...lost...read To Dream in the City of Sorrows for more info, I'd hate to spoil its ambiguity... Delenn is one of his descendents.

religion: Catholic (Jesuit)

strong point: profundity :)

weak point: the hole in his mind (yep, that's gotta be it -p)

catch phrase: "Hello, old friend."

role: he is the one who was; his actions set up the history that takes place on Babylon 5. As Valen, he established the Rangers, who were essential in fighting the Shadows, as well as the Gray Council. As Sinclair, he also leads the Rangers after he is assigned to Minbar.

His struggle to find his purpose in life largely defines his character. As Garibaldi notes at one point during the first season, Sinclair, like many people who faught during the war, finds it easier to find a way to go out in a blaze of glory rather than finding a reason to live. His purpose, however, is already defined by the past, and until he becomes Valen, he is something of a pawn in the hands of others who want to direct him to it. In particular, Delenn, who knows of his identity as Valen and a "True Seeker," watches over him. In the end, it all works out as history is fulfilled...

what other people think of him:

"We were right about you..." --Delenn
"We live for the One, we die for the One."--Rangers

shilpa's comments: I really like Sinclair. Actually, I like Sinclair more than Sheridan. There's just something in his personality that I find more appealing. I started watching Babylon 5 during the third season, is so I wasn't too familiar with Sinclair. However, after reading To Dream in the City of Sorrows, I was ready to watch season one. I still have not completely caught up (pathetic, I know), but I miss Sinclair after he's gone.

What do I like about him? Well, I like his sincerity, how everything he says sounds so dead serious because of his rather monotone voice even when he's cracking jokes; I've been often taken seriously when I haven't been for the same reason, so I empathize. And I like how he's always searching...

priya's comments: Sinclair's definitely very cool--I mean, he's Valen! I didn't really like him when I first saw him, but after awhile I got used to him. He's all wise and nifty and stuff, and he's so instrumental in everything. Yet he's still just a regular guy...well, mostly.

back

Ulysses

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel; I will drink
Life to the lees. All times I have enjoy'd
Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea. I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known,-- cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honor'd of them all,--
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!
As tho' to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains; but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
to whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,--
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfill
This labor, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.

There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail;
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me,--
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads,-- you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honor and his toil.
Death closes all; but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks;
The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends.
'T is not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,--
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

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