Thursday, June 30, 2016

More than all by John Greenleaf Whittier

Give fools their gold, and knaves their power;
let fortune's bubbles rise and fall;
who sows a field, or trains a flower,
or plants a tree, is more than all.
John Greenleaf Whittier

Tuesday, June 28, 2016

This will pass away by John Godfrey Saxe

This will pass away
John Godfrey Saxe

"Give me a motto!" said a youth
To one whom years had rendered wise;
"Some pleasant thought or weighty truth,
That briefest syllables comprise....
And, reverend father," said the boy,
Since life they say, is ever made
A mingled web of grief and joy;
Since cares may come and pleasures fade--
Pray, let the motto have a range
Of meaning matching every change."

The old man ponders a moment, commenting that
the lad has given him no easy task. Finally, he replies:
"What think you, lad, of this device
(Older than I--though I am gray),
'Tis simple-- 'This will pass away.'

Monday, June 27, 2016

The World I Live In by Helen Keller

The infinite wonders of the universe are revealed to us in exact measure as we are capable of receiving them. The keenness of our vision depends not on how much we can see, but on how much we feel.
Helen Keller, The World I Live In

The only lightless dark is the night of ignorance and insensibility. We differ, blind and seeing, one from another, not in our senses, but in the use we make of them, in the imagination and courage with which we seek wisdom beyond our senses.
Helen Keller, The World I Live In

Search for Love by D. H. Lawrence

Those that go searching for love
only make manifest their own lovelessness,
and the loveless never find love,
only the loving find love,
and they never have to seek for it.
D. H. Lawrence

Saturday, June 25, 2016

What the Birds Said(Excerpt) by John Greenleaf Whittier

What the Birds Said
John Greenleaf Whittier

A grateful murmur clomb the air;
A whisper scarcely heard at first,
It filled the listening heavens with prayer.

"And sweet and far, as from a star,
Replied a voice which shall not cease,
Till, drowning all the noise of war,
It sings the blessed song of peace!"

So to me, in a doubtful day
Of chill and slowly greening spring,
Low stooping from the cloudy gray,
The wild-birds sang or seemed to sing.

They vanished in the misty air,
The song went with them in their flight;
But lo! they left the sunset fair,
And in the evening there was light.

Friday, June 24, 2016

The garden by Rumi

And don't think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter.
It's quiet, but the roots are down there riotous.

Thursday, June 23, 2016

Dedication by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Reflections On Friendship)


From"The Seaside and the Fireside"
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

As one who, walking in the twilight gloom,
Hears round about him voices as it darkens,
And seeing not the forms from which they come,
Pauses from time to time, and turns and hearkens;

So walking here in twilight, O my friends!
I hear your voices, softened by the distance,
And pause, and turn to listen, as each sends
His words of friendship, comfort, and assistance.

If any thought of mine, or sung or told,
Has ever given delight or consolation,
Ye have repaid me back a thousand-fold,
By every friendly sign and salutation.

Thanks for the sympathies that ye have shown!
Thanks for each kindly word, each silent token,
That teaches me, when seeming most alone,
Friends are around us, though no word be spoken.

Kind messages, that pass from land to land;
Kind letters, that betray the heart's deep history,
In which we feel the pressure of a hand,--
One touch of fire,--and all the rest is mystery!

The pleasant books, that silently among
Our household treasures take familiar places,
And are to us as if a living tongue
Spice from the printed leaves or pictured faces!

Perhaps on earth I never shall behold,
With eye of sense, your outward form and semblance;
Therefore to me ye never will grow old,
But live forever young in my remembrance!

Never grow old, nor change, nor pass away!
Your gentle voices will flow on forever,
When life grows bare and tarnished with decay,
As through a leafless landscape flows a river.

Not chance of birth or place has made us friends,
Being oftentimes of different tongues and nations,
But the endeavor for the selfsame ends,
With the same hopes, and fears, and aspirations.

Therefore I hope to join your seaside walk,
Saddened, and mostly silent, with emotion;
Not interrupting with intrusive talk
The grand, majestic symphonies of ocean.

Therefore I hope, as no unwelcome guest,
At your warm fireside, when the lamps are lighted,
To have my place reserved among the rest,
Nor stand as one unsought and uninvited!

Something the heart must have to cherish,
Must love, and joy, and sorrow learn;
Something with passion clasp, or perish,
And in itself to ashes burn.

Friday, June 17, 2016

Contemplating an individual by Arthur Helps

We often err by contemplating an individual solely in his relation and behaviour to us, and generalizing from that with more rapidity than wisdom. We might as well argue that the moon has no rotation about her axis, because the same hemisphere is always presented to our view.
Arthur Helps

Man's philosophy of life somewhere down below by Eric Allen Johnston

The things a man believes most profoundly are rarely on the surface of his mind or tongue. Newly acquired notions - decisions based on expediency, the fashionable ideas of the moment - are right on top of the pile, ready to be displayed in bright after-dinner conversation. But the ideas that make up a man's philosophy of life are somewhere way down below.
Eric Allen Johnston

Thursday, June 16, 2016

We like all the things that have no end by Umberto Eco

We have always been fascinated by infinite space, by the endless stars and by galaxies upon galaxies. How does a person feel when looking at the sky?

He thinks that he doesn’t have enough tongues to describe what he sees. Nevertheless, people have never stopping describing the sky, simply listing what they see. . . .

We have a limit, a very discouraging, humiliating limit: death. That’s why we like all the things that we assume have no limits and, therefore, no end.
Umberto Eco

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

The seal Of Love by Hafiz

The seal
Upon Love's treasure casket, and the key,
Are still what thieves can neither break nor steal;
Still among lovers loyalty is found,
And therefore faithful eyes still strew the ground
With the same pearls that mine once strewed for thee.

Monday, June 13, 2016

Those who mean well themselves think well of others by WILLIAM HAZLITT

Thus it has always been.Those who mean well themselves think well of others, and fall a prey to their security. That humanity and sincerity which dispose men to resist injustice and tyranny render them unfit to cope with the cunning and power of those who are opposed to them. The friends of liberty trust to the professions of others because they are themselves sincere, and endeavour to secure the public good with the least possible hurt to its enemies, who have no regard to anything but their own unprincipled ends, and stick at nothing to accomplish them.
WILLIAM HAZLITT, Characters of Shakespeare's Plays

Friday, June 10, 2016

Then Let Me Go to Nature by Mary Jean Irion

Then Let Me Go to Nature
Mary Jean Irion
from “Yes, World: A Mosaic of Meditation”

Then let me go to nature as I came from nature
to the great cycles of creativity that I have dimly, so dimly,
understood . . .

When you commit my ashes to the ground . . .commit them!
For then one cycle of individual life will be over,
and a unit of nature will be separated into its minute parts
for participation in new ways,
as atoms rearrange in the mysterious slow seething of the world.

Just as I have come from infinity, so I return to infinity,
between which events, for a little time, I came to celebrate
that miracle which I could never fathom.

Therefore, when it is time . . . yield me dying,
yield me dead in this tradition-
-earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust–
in sure and certain hope that the dust which bloomed briefly
in my loving will bloom again, bloom again in the renewal of species,

each meaning according to its kind with not even a single day of the mayfly
scorned; that this dust will bloom again and again and always again
until the seas run dry and the mountains disappear.

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

Thoughts that are light by Joseph Joubert

Thoughts that are light, clear, distinct, finished; and words that
resemble their thoughts.Words that often retain their meaning even
when they are detached from others and that please when isolated as sounds.

Thoughts that cannot survive the open air and that evaporate
as soon as we take them out of the room. To put them to the test
of isolation. Take them out of the book where you found them,
they do not endure.

Ideas never lack for words. It is words that lack ideas.
As soon as the idea has come to its last degree of perfection,
the word blossoms; or, if you like, it blossoms from the word
that presents it and clothes it.
Joseph Joubert

Tuesday, June 7, 2016

The wanderings of your imagination by François Fénelon

Be not troubled by the wanderings of your imagination which you cannot
restrain. How often do we wander through the fear of wandering and
the regret that we have done so. What would you say of a traveler who,
instead of constantly advancing in his journey, should employ his time
in anticipating the falls he might suffer, or in weeping over the place
where one had happened?
François Fénelon

Saturday, June 4, 2016

Selected Poetry and Quotes of Antonio Machado:On Meditation,Spirituality & philosophical reflections/Wanderer***Has my heart gone to sleep?***Last night I had a dream…

Monti Csardas-Katica Illenyi

Is my soul asleep?
Antonio Machado

Has my heart gone to sleep?
Have the beehives of my dreams stopped working,
the waterwheel of the mind run dry,
scoops turning empty, only shadow inside?

No, my heart is not asleep. It is awake, wide awake.
Not asleep, not dreaming— its eyes are opened wide
watching distant signals, listening on the rim of vast silence.

Antonio Machado

Wanderer, your footsteps are
the path, and nothing else;
wanderer, there is no path,
the path is made by walking.

Walking makes the path,
and on glancing back
one sees the path
that will never trod again.

Wanderer, there is no path—
Just waves in the sea.

Beyond living and dreaming there is something
more important: waking up.

I love Jesus, who said to us: Heaven and earth will pass away.
When heaven and earth have passed away, my word will remain.
What was your word, Jesus? Love? Forgiveness? Affection?
All your words were one word: Wakeup.
Antonio Machado

Last night I had a dream…
Antonio Machado

Last night I had a dream-
a blessed illusion it was-
I dreamt of a fountain flowing
deep down in my heart.
Water, by what hidden channels
have you come, tell me, to me,
welling up with new life
I never tasted before?

Last night I had a dream-
a blessed illusion it was-
I dreamt of a hive at work
deep down in my heart.
Within were the golden bees
straining out the bitter past
to make sweet-tasting honey,
and white honeycomb.

Last night I had a dream-
a blessed illusion it was-
I dreamt of a hot sun shining
deep down in my heart.
The heat was in the scorching
as from a fiery hearth;
the sun in the light it shed
and the tears it brought to the eyes.

Last night I had a dream-
a blessed illusion it was-
I dreamed it was God I’d found
deep down in my heart.

Thursday, June 2, 2016

Be gentle with yourself by Sanober Khan

Whatever you do
be gentle with yourself.
you don’t just live
in this world
or your home
or your skin.

you also live
in someone’s eyes.
Sanober Khan

Waking Up/Antonio Machado

Beyond living and dreaming there is something
more important: waking up.
Antonio Machado

Under all that we think, lives all we believe,
like the ultimate veil of our spirits.
Antonio Machado

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