Sunday, September 22, 2019

Sunday ~ September 22, 2019

Thou hast nor youth, nor age,
But as it were an after-dinner's sleep
Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed youth
Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms
Of palsied eld: and when thou art old and rich,
Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty
To make thy riches pleasant.
What's yet in this
That bears the name of life?

(William Shakespeare, 1564 - 1616)

Friday, September 20, 2019

Friday ~ September 20, 2019

Rumour is a pipe
Blown by surprises, jealousies, conjectures,
And of so easy and so plain a stop
That the blunt monster with uncounted heads,
The still-discordant wav'ring multitude,
Can play upon it.

(William Shakespeare, 1564 - 1616)

Thursday, September 19, 2019

Thursday ~ September 19,2019

I am not what I have nor what I do;
But what I was I am, I am even I.
Therefore myself is that one only thing
I hold to use or waste, to keep or give;
My sole possession every day I live.

(Christina Rossetti, 1830 - 1894)

Saturday, September 14, 2019

Saturday ~ September 14, 2019

Here is a mystery: If sweeping through the door of my heart there moves continually a genuine love for you, it bypasses all your hate and all your indifference and gets through to you at your center. You are powerless to do anything about it. You may keep alive in devious ways the fires of your bitter heart, but they cannot get through to me. Underneath the surface of all the tension, something else is at work. It is utterly impossible for you to keep another from loving you.

(Howard Thurman, 1899 - 1981)

Friday, September 13, 2019

September ~ 13, 2019

I am in need of music that would flow
Over my fretful, feeling fingertips,
Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,
With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.
Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low,
Of some song sung to rest the tired dead,
A song to fall like water on my head,
And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!
There is a magic made by melody:
A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool
Heart, that sinks through fading colors deep
To the subaqueous stillness of the sea,
And floats forever in a moon-green pool,
Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep.

(Elizabeth Bishop, 1911 - 1979)

Tuesday, August 13, 2019

Tuesday ~ August 13, 2019

I love to see, when leaves depart,
The clear anatomy arrive,
Winter, the paragon of art,
That kills all forms of life and feeling.
Save what is pure and will survive.

(Roy Campbell, 1901 - 1957)

Wednesday, June 5, 2019

Wednesday ~ June 5, 2019

Soul is something creative, something active. Soul is honesty. I sing to the realists, people who accept it like it is. I express problems; there are tears when it's sad and smiles when it's happy. It seems simple to me, but to some, feelings take courage.

(Aretha Franklin, 1942 - 2018)

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