Don't be afraid of showing affection. Be warm and tender,
thoughtful and affectionate. Men are more helped by sympathy
than by service. Love is more than money, and a kind word will
give more pleasure than a present.
Sir John Lubbock
An idle poet, here and there,
Looks around him; but, for all the rest,
The world, unfathomably fair,
Is duller than a witling's jest.
Love wakes men, once a lifetime each;
They lift their heavy lids, and look;
And, lo, what one sweet page can teach,
They read with joy, then shut the book.
And some give thanks, and some blaspheme
And most forget; but, either way,
That and the Child's unheeded dream
Is all the light of all their day.
To My Daughter, Adèle
Translated by Valerie Smith
My baby, sleeping close to me, all pink and fresh,
like a tiny drowsy Jesus in his crèche;
In your innocent sleep, so calm and so charming,
You do not hear the bird singing in the shadows
Pensively, I inhale all the sweet darkness
of the mysterious heavens.
And I listen to the angels flying above your head;
And watch you sleeping; and over your coverlets
Noiselessly, I strip the leaves from jasmine and carnation;
As I pray, watching over your shuttered eyelids;
My eyes well up full with water, dreaming of things
That await us in the night.
One day, my turn will come to sleep; and my sleep
will be so shadowy, so gloomy, so wild and deep
That I will hear the singing bird no more;
And the night will be black; then, o my dove,
You will return to my tomb,
the tears, prayers and flowers
That I bestrewed by your cradle.
Pino Daeni Painting
This song of mine will wind its music around you,
my child, like the fond arms of love.
The song of mine will touch your forehead
like a kiss of blessing.
When you are alone it will sit by your side and
whisper in your ear, when you are in the crowd
it will fence you about with aloofness.
My song will be like a pair of wings to your dreams,
it will transport your heart to the verge of the unknown.
It will be like the faithful star overhead
when dark night is over your road.
My song will sit in the pupils of your eyes,
and will carry your sight into the heart of things.
And when my voice is silenced in death,
my song will speak in your living heart.
Émile Munier Art
Bless this little heart, this white soul that has won the kiss of
heaven for our earth.
He loves the light of the sun, he loves the sight of his
He has not learned to despise the dust, and to hanker after
Clasp him to your heart and bless him.
He has come into this land of an hundred cross-roads.
I know not how he chose you from the crowd, came to your
door,and grasped you hand to ask his way.
He will follow you, laughing the talking, and not a doubt in
Keep his trust, lead him straight and bless him.
Lay your hand on his head, and pray that though the waves
underneath grow threatening, yet the breath from above may
come and fill his sails and waft him to the heaven of peace.
Forget him not in your hurry, let him come to your heart
and bless him.
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
O me! O life! Of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d
with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself,
(for who more foolish than I,and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean,
of the struggle ever renew’d,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds
I see around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest
The question, O me! So sad, recurring – What good amid these,
O me, O life?
That you are here – that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
Beware the leader who bangs the drums of war in order
to whip the citizenry into a patriotic fervor, for patriotism
is indeed a double-edged sword. It both emboldens the blood,
just as it narrows the mind.
"And when the drums of war have reached a fever pitch
and the blood boils with hate and the mind has closed,
the leader will have no need in seizing the rights
of the citizenry.
Rather, the citizenry, infused with fear and blinded by patriotism,
will offer up all of their rights unto the leader and gladly so.
"How do I know? For this is what I have done. And I am Caesar."
A quote attributed to Julius Caesar
True, we love life, not because we are used to living,
but because we are used to loving. There is always some
madness in love, but there is also always some reason
Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche
The child learns so easily because he has a natural gift,
but adults, because they are tyrants, ignore natural gifts
and say that children must learn through the same process
that they learned by. We insist upon forced mental feeding
and our lessons become a form of torture.
This is one of man ís most cruel and wasteful mistakes.
All men have poetry in their hearts, and it is necessary
for them, as much as possible, to express their feelings.
For this they must have a medium, moving and pliant, which
can refreshingly become their own, age after age.
All great languages undergo change. Those languages which
resist the spirit of change are doomed and will never produce
great harvests of thought and literature.
When forms become fixed, the spirit either weakly accepts
its imprisonment or rebels. All revolutions consists
of the “within” fighting against invasion from “without”…
All great human movements are related to some great idea.
It is the little things that count
And give a mother pleasure -
The things her children bring to her
Which they so richly treasure...
The picture that is smudged a bit
With tiny fingerprints,
The colored rock, the lightning bugs,
The sticky peppermints;
The ragged, bright bouquet of flowers
A child brings, roots and all -
These things delight a mother's heart
Although they seem quite small.
A mother can see beauty
In the very smallest thing
For there's a little bit of heaven
In a small child's offering.
When Mother came to our room
To tuck us in at night,
Her face would look so gentle
In the soft, bedside light.
And though we may not always
Have behaved our best that day,
She'd let us know she loved us
In a very special way:
An extra fold to the coverlet,
A little pat, a hug,
And we'd settle down to dreamland
Feeling safe and snug.
And of all the childhood memories
That there have ever been,
We love best to recall the times
When Mother tucked us in.
O flower! Attired in pure natural innocence,
Thou are ignorant of thy enchanting aroma,
Unaware of thy Charm,
Dances freely with flirtious breeze,
Hardly cares about worlds joy and sorrow,
Thou are neither selfish nor altruistic
Full of Self yet so Selfless!
I am fascinated by your tranquil disposition,
At dawn thou bath in suns rays,
Flirt with colorful butterfly,
Fall a deep sleep in afternoon warmth.
Enjoy melodious sound of chirping birds
Thou lover, up there - the sky,
Gazes you with intense admiration,
He kisses you tenderly through his winds,
Thou spread thy fragrances in his arms,
He grows enamored of thy presence,
What a beautiful bond!
Thy fall comes ,autumn arrives,
Still thou remain full of life as ever before,
Not worried; not shaken a bit
Simply falls, without uttering a
Single word to your lover to save you
from getting withered.
Thou unconditional acceptance is captivating,
O soft hearted beauty, thy passive life is
Exquisite treasure of green emotions.
Carry me out the ocean, where
my drifting thoughts flow free.
Guide them to a far distant land,
that only the mind can see.
There I shall paint a great portrait,
of what this world should be.
A place without seneless wars,
and human poverty.
Sincere forgiveness isn't colored with expectations
that the other person apologize or change. Don't worry
whether or not they finally understand you. Love them
and release them. Life feeds back truth to people in
its own way and time.
Everything has its wonders, even darkness and silence,
and I learn, whatever state I may be in, therein to be content.
Once I knew only darkness and stillness...
my life was without past or future...
but a little word from the fingers of another
fell into my hand that clutched at emptiness,
and my heart leaped to the rapture of living.
You will say that everyone has seen landscapes and figures
from childhood on. The question is: Has everybody also been
reflexive as a child? Has everybody who has seen them also
loved heath, fields,meadows, woods, and the snow and the rain
and the s.
Vincent van Gogh
Some people come into our lives
and quickly go.
Some people move our souls to dance.
They awaken us
to new understanding
with the passing whisper of their wisdom.
Some people make
the sky more beautiful to gaze upon.
They stay in our lives for awhile,
leave footprints on our hearts
And we are never, ever the same.
Pino Daeni painting
Song from a Secret Garden
Will you still love me even if I’m not perfect?
Will you still love me even if I’m not the kind
of person you wished I were?
Will you still look into my eyes with warmth even
if you saw my shadows? Will you still hold my hand
even if you knew there will be times I’d let you down?
For though I yearn to take care of you as I should, though
I desire to love you with a love that never falters and fades,
my knees tremble this very moment that you hold me in your arms.
Shall I kiss you? Shall I hold your hand and bask in the light
of your spirit knowing that I have my darkness, knowing there
will be times that the light of my love will sometimes be
overshadowed by the darkness that is in me?
Sometimes I’d be silent and I might bore you. I may not laugh
at your jokes, and you may not understand the spell that’s enshrouding me.
Sometimes I’d get troubled and I’d fail to put into words what
the hell it is that troubles me. I wouldn’t be good company then,
and I couldn’t make you smile.
Sometimes I’d get moody and I might not enjoy the things you’d
like us to do together. Sometimes I’d lose my temper and I’d
no longer act like the fine person who stands before you today.
Sometimes I’d get jealous and I might say things I don’t really
Sometimes I’d talk too much that I might drive you away.
Sometimes I’d get touchy and I’d get easily hurt. And no matter
how mature I try to be, at times I’d act in childish ways.
I’d demand things I shouldn’t, I’d say things I shouldn’t say.
And no matter how much I desire to protect you and make you
happy,sometimes I’d be the one who’d cause you the most pain.
If you will love me I cannot promise you that I will not hurt you.
I cannot promise you that I will not make you cry and that I’ll
never break your heart. But if you will love me, I will bare
my whole self naked before you, and I will reveal to you my soul.
If you will love me, you can be certain that it is I that you will
love, not a mask that fools you and gives you only what your
eyes desire to see. If you will love me, you can be certain that
you will love the depths of me, all of me that is in me, and
I in turn will love you with all of me, with all my soul, with
all my mind, with all my spirit, with all my flaws and beauty,
and with all my very heart.
I'll Paint You A Rainbow
Grace E. Easley
I'll paint you a rainbow to hang on the wall,
to brighten your heart when the gray shadows fall.
On a canvas of joy outlasting the years,
with a soft brush of sweetness to dry all your tears.
I'll paint you a rainbow with colors of smiles
That glow with sincerity over the miles.
On a palette of words I will tenderly blend
Tones into treasures of sunlight and wind.
I'll paint you a rainbow that reaches so wide,
Your sights and your sorrows will vanish inside,
And deep in the center of each different hue,
A memory fashioned especially for you.
So lift up your eyes, for suspended above,
A rainbow designed by the fingers of love...
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Vladimir Volegov painting
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, --- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Vladimir Volegov painting
Love does not put everything at rest; it puts everything
Love does not resolve every conflict; it accepts conflict
as the arena in which the work of love is to be done.
Love does not separate the good people from the bad,
bestowing endless bliss on one, and endless torment
on the other. Love seeks reconciliation of every life
so that it may share all the others.
Daniel Day Williams