Wednesday, September 30, 2015

From"Amoretti" by EDMUND SPENSER

But angels come to lead frail minds to rest
In chaste desires, on heavenly beauty bound.
You frame my thoughts, and fashion me within;
You stop my tongue, and teach my heart to speak.

Rhythm of life by Arthur Gordon

Rhythm. Life is full of it; words should have it, too. But you have to train your ear. Listen to the waves on a quiet night; you’ll pick up the cadence. Look at the patterns the wind makes in dry sand and you’ll see how syllables in a sentence should fall.
Arthur Gordon

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

The Art Of Loving BY Erich Fromm

Evanthia Remboutsika-Mesa Apo Sena(through you)

From"The Art Of Loving"
Erich Fromm

There is no word in our language which has been so much misused as the word love. It has been preached by those who were ready to condone every cruelty if it served their purpose; it has been used as a disguise under which to force people into sacrificing their own happiness, into submitting their whole self to those who profited from this surrender. It has been made so empty that for many people love may mean no more than that two people have lived together for twenty years just without fighting more often than once a week.

In spite of the deep-seated craving for love, almost everything else is considered to be more important than love: success, prestige, money, power-almost all our energy is used for the learning of how to achieve these aims, and almost none to learn the art of loving. Could it be that only those things are considered worthy of being learned with which one can earn money or prestige, and that love, which "only" profits the soul, but is profitless in the modern sense, is a luxury we have no right to spend energy on?”

If I truly love one person I love all persons, I love the world, I love life. If I can say to somebody else, “I love you,” I must be able to say, “I love in you everybody, I love through you the world, I love in you also myself.

Love is not primarily a relationship to a specific person; it is an attitude, an orientation of character which determines the relatedness of a person to the world as a whole, not toward one “object” of love. If a person loves only one other person and is in different to the rest of his fellow men, his love is not love but a symbiotic attachment, or an enlarged egotism.

Yet, most people“If one wants to become a master of any art, one’s whole life must be devoted to it, or at least related to believe that love is constituted by the object, not by the faculty. In fact, they even believe that it is a proof of the intensity of their love when they do not love anybody except the “loved” person. This is the same fallacy which we have already mentioned above. Because one does not see that love is an activity, a power of the soul, one believes that all that is necessary to find is the right object--and that everything goes by itself afterward. This attitude can be compared to that of a man who wants to paint but who, instead of learning the art, claims that he has just to wait for the right object, and that he will paint beautifully when he finds it.

Loving is an act and habit of giving to the world. The loving person gives of himself, of the most precious he has, he gives of his life. This does not necessarily mean that he sacrifices his life for the other - but that he gives him of that which is alive in him; he gives him of his joy, of his interest, of his understanding, of his knowledge, of his humor, of his sadness - of all expressions and manifestations of that which is alive in him.

The loving person doesn’t give love in order to receive it, But in giving he cannot help bringing something to life in the other person, and this which is brought to life reflects back to him; in truly giving, he cannot help receiving that which is given back to him. Giving implies to make the other person a giver also and they both share in the joy of what they have brought to life. In the act of giving something is born, and both persons involved are grateful for the life that is born for both of them.

Love is a decision, it is a judgment, it is a promise. If love were only a feeling, there would be no basis for the promise to love each other forever. A feeling comes and it may go. How can I judge that it will stay forever, when my act does not involve judgment and decision.

Care and responsibility are constituent elements of love, but without respect for and knowledge of the beloved person, love deteriorates into domination and possessiveness. Respect is not fear & awe: it denotes, in accordance with the root of the word (respicere = to look at), the ability to see a person as he is, to be aware of his unique individuality.

Respect exists only on the basis of freedom: “l’amour est l’enfant de la liberte” as an old French song says; love is the child of freedom, never that of domination.

To love one person productively means to be related to his human core, to him as representing mankind. Love for one individual, in so far as it is divorced from love for man, can refer only to the superficial and to the accidental; of necessity it remains shallow.

The differences in talents, intelligence, knowledge are negligible in comparison with the identity of the human core common to all men. In order to experience this identity it is necessary to penetrate from the periphery to the core. If I perceive in another person mainly the surface, I perceive mainly differences, that which separates us. If I penetrate to the core, I perceive our identity, the fact of out brotherhood. This relatedness from center to center - instead of that from periphery to periphery - is 'central relatedness'.

Love of the helpless, the poor and the stranger, are the beginning of brotherly love. To love ones flesh and blood is no achievement. The animal loves its young and cares for them. Only in the love of those who do not serve a purpose, does love begin to unfold. Compassion implies the element of knowledge and identification. "You know the heart of the stranger," says the Bible, "for you were strangers in the land of Egypt;... therefore love the stranger!"

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

What little there is, is very important by James Allen

An unlearned carpenter of my acquaintance once said in my hearing: "There is very little difference between one man and another; but what little there is, is very important." This distinction seems to me to go to the root of the matter.
James Allen,"The Importance of Individuals"

We are only half-awake by James Allen

Every one is familiar with the phenomenon of feeling more or less alive on different days. Every one knows on any given day that there are energies slumbering in him which the incitements of that day do not call forth, but which he might display if these were greater. Most of us feel as if we lived habitually with a sort of cloud weighing on us, below our highest notch of clearness in discernment, sureness in reasoning, or firmness in deciding. Compared with what we ought to be, we are only half-awake. Our fires are damped, our drafts are checked. We are making use of only a small part of our possible mental and physical resources.
James Allen,The Energies of Men

Their truth become their heresies by John Milton

People may be heretics to the truth if they believe things only because their pastor says so, or the assembly so determines, without knowing other reason; though their beliefs be true, yet the very truth they hold become their heresies.
John Milton

Saturday, September 19, 2015

Friday, September 18, 2015

Two Trees by Janet Miles

Two Trees
Janet Miles

A portion of your soul has been
entwined with mine
A gentle kind of togetherness, while
separately we stand.
As two trees deeply rooted in
separate plots of ground,
While their topmost branches
come together,
Forming a miracle of lace
against the heavens.

Thursday, September 17, 2015

Love is eternal by Eleanor Farjeon

You think you hold the core and kernel
Of all the world beneath your crust,
Old dial? But when you lie in dust,
This vine will bloom, strong, green, and proved.
Love is eternal.
Eleanor Farjeon

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

To the Daisy by William Wordsworth

Bright flowers, whose home is everywhere
Bold in maternal nature's care
And all the long year through the heir
Of joy and sorrow,
Methinks that there abides in thee
Some concord with humanity,
Given to no other flower I see
The forest through.
William Wordsworth, To the Daisy.

A SONG by Carolyn Sloan

Carolyn Sloan

I sang a song yesterday,
I thought I sang it well.
The notes were all in tune.
The phrases smooth and uninterrupted
by unconscious breaths.
I varied the rhythms and spoke the words clearly.
I anticipated each key change.
My voice was warm and moved effortlessly
through each rise and fall of the melody.
When I finished, I was sure I’d told the story well
and communicated my interpretation.

But I did not experience a feeling.
My heart remained unchanged.
I was unmoved.
My soul still yearned for expression.
Despite my efforts,
I realized I had not sung at all.
The music, it seemed, slept quietly beside me,
patiently waiting to be awakened.
I decided to start again.
This time I did not listen.
I did not watch.
I did not think.
This time I willingly vanished.
This time I became….. a song.

The song of the sea by Kahlil Gibran

Does the song of the sea end at the shore
or in the hearts of those who listen to it?
Kahlil Gibran

Saturday, September 12, 2015

Jacques Brel - Ne Me Quitte Pas

Ne Me Quitte Pas Lyrics
Jacques Brel

Ne me quitte pas
Il faut oublier
Tout peut s'oublier
Qui s'enfuit déjà
Oublier le temps
Des malentendus
Et le temps perdu
A savoir comment
Oublier ces heures
Qui tuaient parfois
A coups de pourquoi
Le coeur du bonheur
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas

Moi je t'offrirai
Des perles de pluie
Venues de pays
Où il ne pleut pas
Je creuserai la terre
Jusqu'après ma mort
Pour couvrir ton corps
D'or et de lumière
Je ferai un domaine
Où l'amour sera roi
Où l'amour sera loi
Où tu seras reine
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas

Ne me quitte pas
Je t'inventerai
Des mots insensés
Que tu comprendras
Je te parlerai
De ces amants-là
Qui ont vu deux fois
Leurs coeurs s'embraser
Je te raconterai
L'histoire de ce roi
Mort de n'avoir pas
Pu te rencontrer
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas

On a vu souvent
Rejaillir le feu
De l'ancien volcan
Qu'on croyait trop vieux
Il est paraît-il
Des terres brûlées
Donnant plus de blé
Qu'un meilleur avril
Et quand vient le soir
Pour qu'un ciel flamboie
Le rouge et le noir
Ne s'épousent-ils pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas

Ne me quitte pas
Je n'vais plus pleurer
Je n'vais plus parler
Je me cacherai là
A te regarder
Danser et sourire
Et t'écouter
Chanter et puis rire
Laisse-moi devenir
L'ombre de ton ombre
L'ombre de ta main
L'ombre de ton chien
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas.

Thursday, September 10, 2015

Inspirational & Motivational Poems on Life's Journey:Wasted Time & Find the grace by Tyler Knott Gregson

Diego Modena & Jean-Philippe Audin-implora

Wasted Time
Tyler Knott Gregson

At this exact instant on this exact planet
there are more people than you, or I, or anyone else
would ever care to admit, that are buried beneath
the weight of wasted time.
The shoulds and supposed tos and becauses and jobs
and money and requirements and responsibilities
add up and pile up and entomb us.
How many miles separate how many people
from the lives they should be leading,
the people they should be loving and the moments
they will never get back?
The justification of this frustration
paints a glossy veneer of happiness over the rust
of the truth hiding below it.

It’s the realization of our encapsulation
that cracks the paint and lets the color fade.
When do we forget the value of what we hold
and when do we forget to care about the burying
we submit ourselves to?

Somewhere a much younger version of ourselves is staring
into the future raising tiny clenched fists into the air
and screaming a wordless warning that falls on
the deaf ears that age has stolen sound from.
We see ourselves and we see the meaning we’ve assigned
to meaningless things;
we see the imagination running off the pages we painted,
watercolors evaporating and leaving behind only blank
canvas, only dry brushes.

Hasn’t the time come to stop this, to put water
to the burning of our futures by the flames of our
past restrictions? Has not the time arrived to
mix the color in the water and dip the brush,
dried an atrophied and lonely from the waiting it too
has endured?
Live life like you love to live and make that life
the one you’ve been waiting for.
At this exact instant you and only you
can rise from the layers of wasted time,
drive your hand through the sediment and
feel the sunlight on your fingers.

Find the grace
Tyler Knott Gregson

Find the positivity. Find the grace. Find it and hold it and cling to it like it is your lifeline and only breath of air before everything sinks. Find the silver linings.

Hold them in your lungs and search for them in the bubbles and rubble of all that pours down around you. Find the bright spot in the dark clouds, listen for the sounds of the birds when the winds pick up and tear down the house around you.

It is there, shhh, it is there, it is always there and it is waiting for you to reach out with both hands, bloody and shaking , and hold tight to it like it is the last thing you will ever learn how to let go. Find the glory, the glory through the ache, and understand that it is what we can endure that defines who we become.

That it has never been about the punches we can throw,
but the punches we can absorb and still stand up from.
It is the standing up, it has always been the standing up
and the refusal to lie still and quiet as the numbers count
towards ten and the knockout becomes complete. Rise my soul,
rise through the flame and the ash, rise through the waters
that fill the spaces under your arms as the crawl towards
your throat. Rise and find the grace, for it is all around you.
Find it. Find the grace.

Tuesday, September 8, 2015

Song by Amy Lowell

Amy Lowell

Oh! To be a flower
Nodding in the sun,
Bending, then upspringing
As the breezes run;
Holding up
A scentbrimmed cup,
Full of summer's fragrance to the summer sun.

Oh! To be a butterfly
Still, upon a flower,
Winking with its painted wings,
Happy in the hour.
Blossoms hold
Mines of gold
Deep within the farthest heart of each chaliced flower.

Oh! To be a cloud
Blowing through the blue,
Shadowing the mountains,
Rushing loudly through
Valleys deep
Where torrents keep
Always their plunging thunder and their misty arch of blue.

Oh! To be a wave
Splintering on the sand,
Drawing back, but leaving
Lingeringly the land.
Rainbow light
Flashes bright
Telling tales of coral caves half hid in yellow sand.

Soon they die, the flowers;
Insects live a day;
Clouds dissolve in showers;
Only waves at play
Last forever.
Shall endeavor
Make a sea of purpose mightier than we dream today?.

Monday, September 7, 2015

Character by Henry David Thoreau

You cannot dream yourself into a character:
you must hammer and forge yourself into one.
Henry David Thoreau

Freedom by John Milton

None can love freedom heartily, but good men;
the rest love not freedom, but license.

License they mean when they cry, Liberty!
For who loves that must first be wise and good.

Saturday, September 5, 2015


Culture:Sweetness & Light by Matthew Arnold

Culture hates hatred; culture has one great passion--the passion for sweetness and light. It has one even yet greater, the passion for making them all prevail. It is not satisfied till we all come to a perfect man; it knows that the sweetness and light of the few must be imperfect until the raw and unkindly masses of humanity are touched with sweetness and light.

It does not try to reach down to the level of inferior classes; it does not try to win them for this or that sect of its own, with ready-made judgments and watchwords of its own. It seeks to away with classes, to make the best that has been taught and known in the world current everywhere, to make all men live in an atmosphere of sweetness and light, where they may use ideas, as it uses them itself, freely--nourished, and not bound by them.
Matthew Arnold,Literature and Dogma

Instead of dirt and poison, we have rather chosen to fill our hives with honey and wax, thus furnishing mankind with the two noblest of things, which are sweetness and light.
Jonathan Swift,Battle of the Books

Friday, September 4, 2015

Aux champs -un poéme de Victor Hugo

Aux champs
Victor Hugo

Je me penche attendri sur les bois et les eaux,
Rêveur, grand-père aussi des fleurs et des oiseaux ;
J’ai la pitié sacrée et profonde des choses ;
J’empêche les enfants de maltraiter les roses ;
Je dis : N’effarez point la plante et l’animal ;
Riez sans faire peur, jouez sans faire mal.
Jeanne et Georges, fronts purs, prunelles éblouies,
Rayonnent au milieu des fleurs épanouies ;
J’erre, sans le troubler, dans tout ce paradis ;
Je les entends chanter, je songe, et je me dis
Qu’ils sont inattentifs, dans leurs charmants tapages,
Au bruit sombre que font en se tournant les pages
Du mystérieux livre où le sort est écrit,
Et qu’ils sont loin du prêtre et près de Jésus-Christ.

On courage & motivation by Tyler Knott Gregson

Promise me you will not spend so much time treading water and trying to keep your head above the waves that you forget, truly forget, how much you have always loved to swim.
Tyler Knott Gregson

To kill an error by Charles Darwin

To kill an error is as good a service as,and sometimes
even better than, the establishing of a new truth or fact.
Charles Darwin

Mysterious love by Joseph Addison

Mysterious love,uncertain treasure,
Hast thou more of pain or pleasure!
Endless torments dwell above thee:
Yet who would live,and live without thee!
Joseph Addison,Rosamond

Thursday, September 3, 2015

In the dark hour of breavement and grief by Robert Ingersoll(Oration at a Child's Grave)

Music:ala mari zaman

In the dark hour of breavement & grief:
(Oration at a Child's Grave)
Robert Ingersoll

MY FRIENDS: I know how vain it is to gild a grief with
words, and yet I wish to take from every grave its fear.
Here in this world, where life and death are equal kings,
all should be brave enough to meet what all have met.

The future has been filled with fear, stained and polluted by
the heartless past. From the wondrous tree of life the buds
and blossoms fall with ripened fruit, and in the common bed
of earth patriarchs and babes sleep side by side.

Why should we fear that which will come to all that is?
We cannot tell. We do not know which is the greatest blessing,
life or death. We cannot say that death is not good.
We do not know whether the grave is the end of this life
or the door of another, or whether the night here is not
somewhere else a dawn.

Neither can we tell, which is the more fortunate, the child dying
in its mothers arms before its lips have learned to form a word,
or he who journeys all the length of life's uneven road, painfully
taking the last slow steps with staff and crutch.

Every cradle asks us "Whence?" and every coffin "Whither?"
The poor barbarian weeping above his dead can answer the question as intelligently and satisfactorily as the robed priest of the most authentic creed. The tearful ignorance of the one is just as consoling as the learned and unmeaning words of the other.

No man standing where the horizon of a life has touched a grave has any right to prophesy a future filled with pain and tears. It may be that death gives all there is of worth to life. If those who press and strain against our hearts could never die, perhaps that love would wither from the earth.

May be a common faith treads from out the paths between our hearts the weeds of selfishness, and I should rather live and love where death is king than have eternal life where love is not.
Another life is naught, unless we know and love again
the ones who love us here.

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Andy Williams - Speak Softly Love(Love theme From The Godfather )

Johann Wolfgang Goethe Quotes

One must ask children and birds
how cherries and strawberries taste.

Being brilliant is no great feat if you respect nothing.

Nothing is more terrible than to see ignorance in action.

Fresh activity is the only means of overcoming adversity.

Behavior is the mirror in which everyone shows their image.

One can be instructed in society, one is inspired only in solitude.

If you wish to know the mind of a man, listen to his words.

The coward only threatens when he is safe.

Let everyone sweep in front of his own door,
and the whole world will be clean.

There is nothing in which people more betray
their character than in what they laugh at.

It is the strange fate of man, that even in the greatest
of evils the fear of the worst continues to haunt him.

Great thoughts and a pure heart,
that is what we should ask from God.

Girls we love for what they are;
young men for what they promise to be.

Dream no small dreams for they have no power
to move the hearts of men.

If I love you, what business is it of yours?

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