Friday, March 31, 2017

Love Instinct by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The bee that takes the pollen to the flower;
The earth, uplifting her bare, pulsing breast
To fervent kisses of the amorous sun;--
Each but obeys creative Love's behest,
Which everywhere instinctively is done.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Let's go by Charles Baudelaire

But the true voyagers are only those who leave
Just to be leaving; hearts light, like balloons,
They never turn aside from their fatality
And without knowing why they always say: "Let's go!”
Charles Baudelaire,Les Fleurs du Mal

Beauty & immortality by Charles baudelaire

It is this admirable, this immortal, instinctive sense of beauty
that leads us to look upon the spectacle of this world as a glimpse,
a correspondence with heaven.

Our unquenchable thirst for all that lies beyond, and that life
reveals, is the liveliest proof of our immortality.

It is both by poetry and through poetry, by music and through music,
that the soul dimly descries the splendours beyond the tomb; and
when an exquisite poem brings tears to our eyes,

those tears are not a proof of overabundant joy: they bear witness
rather to an impatient melancholy, a clamant demand by our nerves,
our nature, exiled in imperfection, which would fain enter into
immediate possession, while still on this earth, of a revealed paradise.
Charles Baudelaire

Monday, March 27, 2017

Troubled Route to Truth by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Through strife the slumbering soul awakes,
We learn on error's troubled route
The truths we could not prize without
The sorrow of our sad mistakes.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

To my first Love ,My mother by Christina Rossetti

A love sonnet, from me
To her whose heart is my heart's quiet home,
To my first Love, my Mother, on whose knee
I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome;
Christina Rosseti

Mother Day Quote by George Eliot

In the love of a brave and faithful man there is
always a strain of maternal tenderness;

he gives out again those beams of protecting fondness
which were shed on him as he lay on his mother's knee.

Monday, March 20, 2017


I shall take the heart.For brains do not make one happy,
and happiness is the best thing in the world.
L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

Happiness always looks small while you hold it in your hands,
but let it go, and you learn at once how big and precious it is.
Maxim Gorky

When I look back on all these worries, I remember the story
of the old man who said on his deathbed that he had had
a lot of trouble in his life, most of which had never happened.
Winston Churchill

If more of us valued food and cheer and song above
hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.
J.R.R. Tolkien

The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance,
the wise grows it under his feet.
James Oppenheim

Happiness is nothing more than good health and a bad memory.
Albert Schweitzer

The advantage of a bad memory is that one enjoys several
times the same good things for the first time.
Friedrich Nietzsche

Saturday, March 18, 2017

Your laughter /Tu Risa by PABLO NERDUA

Hasta Sıempre-Ahmet Koç

Your laughter
Pablo Neruda

Take bread away from me, if you wish,
take air away, but
do not take from me your laughter.

Do not take away the rose,
the lance flower that you pluck,
the water that suddenly
bursts forth in joy,
the sudden wave
of silver born in you.

My struggle is harsh and I come back
with eyes tired
at times from having seen
the unchanging earth,
but when your laughter enters
it rises to the sky seeking me
and it opens for me all
the doors of life.

My love, in the darkest
hour your laughter
opens, and if suddenly
you see my blood staining
the stones of the street,
laugh, because your laughter
will be for my hands
like a fresh sword.

Next to the sea in the autumn,
your laughter must raise
its foamy cascade,
and in the spring, love,
I want your laughter like
the flower I was waiting for,
the blue flower, the rose
of my echoing country.

Laugh at the night,
at the day, at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,
laugh at this clumsy
boy who loves you,
but when I open
my eyes and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread, air,
light, spring,
but never your laughter
for I would die.



Quítame el pan, si quieres,
quítame el aire, pero
no me quites tu risa.

No me quites la rosa,
la lanza que desgranas,
el agua que de pronto
estalla en tu alegría,
la repentina ola
de plata que te nace.

Mi lucha es dura y vuelvo
con los ojos cansados
a veces de haber visto
la tierra que no cambia,
pero al entrar tu risa
sube al cielo buscándome
y abre para mi todas
las puertas de la vida.

Amor mío, en la hora
más oscura desgrana
tu risa, y si de pronto
ves que mi sangre mancha
las piedras de la calle,
ríe, porque tu risa
será para mis manos
como una espada fresca.

Junto al mar en otoño,
tu risa debe alzar
su cascada de espuma,
y en primavera, amor,
quiero tu risa como
la flor que yo esperaba,
la flor azul, la rosa
de mi patria sonora.

Ríete de la noche,
del día, de la luna,
ríete de las calles
torcidas de la isla,
ríete de este torpe
muchacho que te quiere,
pero cuando yo abro
los ojos y los cierro,
cuando mis pasos van,
cuando vuelven mis pasos,
niégame el pan, el aire,
la luz, la primavera,
pero tu risa nunca
porque me moriría.

Thursday, March 16, 2017

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

To love and to be loved by George Sand/Inspirational love Quotes

There is only one happiness in life,
to love and to be loved.
George Sand

I'm not full of virtues and noble qualities.
I love, but I love strongly, exclusive, stedfasty.

The intellect seeks, the heart finds.

The prayers of a lover are more imperious
than the menaces of the whole world.
George Sand

Monday, March 13, 2017

Who Is Going to Stop Me? by Ayn Rand

The question isn't who is going to let me;
it's who is going to stop me.
Ayn Rand

A Reason For Love by Michel de Montaigne

If a man should importune me to give
a reason why I loved him,

I find it could no otherwise be expressed,
than by making answer:
because it was he, because it was I.
Michel de Montaigne

Saturday, March 11, 2017

Beauty: Heavenly Language by Khalil Gibran

Beauty has its own heavenly language,
loftier than the voices of tongues and lips.
It is a timeless language, common to all humanity,
a calm lake that attracts the singing rivulets
to its depth and makes them silent.
Khalil Gibran

Friday, March 10, 2017

I Believe In by Elbert Hubbard

I believe in the hands that work,
in the brains that think,
and in the hearts that love...

I believe in sunshine, fresh air,
friendship,calm sleep, beautiful thoughts.
Elbert Hubbard

I want To Unfold by Rainer Maria Rilke

I want to unfold
Let no place in me hold itself closed
For where I am closed, I am false
I want to stay clear in your sight.
Rainer Maria Rilke,love poems to God

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Honor To Women /Würde der Frauen by Friedrich Schiller*** International Women's Day poem

Tango Evora-Loreena McKennitt

Honor To Woman
Friedrich Schiller
Translated From the German by Marianna Wertz

Honor the women! They’re roses celestial
Twining and weaving in lives terrestrial,
Weaving the bond of the most blessed love,
Veiled in the Graces’ most modest attire
Nourish they watchful the e’erlasting fire
Of lovely feelings with hand from above.

To truth’s limits ever endless
Man with wild force doth flee,
Thoughts do drive him ever restless
Onto passion’s stormy sea.
Greedy grasps he the eternal,
Silent will his heart be ne’er,
Restless through the stars supernal
Hunts he his dream’s image e’er.

But with their glances so magic’ly chaining,
Beckon the women the fug’tive restraining,
Warning him back in their presence anew.
In the mother’s most moderate quarters
They have remained yet with modesty’s manners,
Nature’s daughters, with piety true.

Hostile e’er the man is striving,
With a crushing force doth roam,
Wildly through his life surviving,
Without rest and without home.
What he builds, he ruins later,
Never rests the wishes’ strife,
Never, as the head of Hydra
Falls and e’er renews its life.

But they, contented with quieter honor,
Pluck now the women the moment’s fine flower,
Nourish it loving and diligently,
They have in their bounded work greater freedom,
Richer than man, too, in districts of wisdom
And in the unending sphere, poetry.

Stern and proudly self-depending,
Knoweth man’s cool breast thereof,
Heartily to heart though bending,
Not the godly joy of love,
Knows he naught of souls exchanging,
Not in tears melts he e’er hence,
Steels he in life’s battles raging
Harder yet his hardened sense.

But, just as softly from zephyr doth shiver,
Quick as Aeolian harp-string doth quiver,
Thus so the feeling-full woman’s soul, too.
Image of pain makes her tenderly fearful,
Heaves then the e’er-loving bosom, and tearful,
Beaming the eyes are from heavenly dew.

In the realm where men are ruling
Might defiant right doth have,
With his sword the Scyth’an’s proving
And the Persian will enslave.
War be they in fury waging,
The desires both wild and rude,
Eris’ voice is hoarsely raging,
Governing, where Charis fled.

But now, so softly, persuasively pleading,
Women with scepter of morals are leading,
Smother they discord, all raging enlight,
Teach they the powers, that hateful develop,
Each in a more loving form to envelop,
And what forever would flee, they unite.


Würde der Frauen
Friedrich Schiller

Ehret die Frauen! sie flechten and weben
Himmlische Rosen ins irdische Leben,
Flechten der Liebe beglückendes Band,
Und in der Grazie züchtigem Schleier
Nähren sie wachsam das ewige Feuer
Schöner Gefühle mit heiliger Hand.

Ewig aus der Wahrheit Schranken
Schweift des Mannes wilde Kraft,
Unstet treiben die Gedanken
Auf dem Meer der Leidenschaft.
Gierig greift er in die Ferne,
Nimmer wird sein Herz gestillt,
Rastlos durch entlegne Sterne
Jagt er seines Traumes Bild.

Aber mit zauberisch fesselndem Blicke
Winken die Frauen den Flüchtling zurücke,
Warnend zurück in der Gegenwart Spur.
In der Mutter bescheidener Hütte
Sind sie geblieben mit schamhafter Sitte,
Treue Töchter der frommen Natur.

Feindlich ist des Mannes Streben,
Mit Zermalmender Gewalt
Geht der wilde durch das Leben,
Ohne Rast und Aufenthalt.
Was er schuf, zerstört er wieder,
Nimmer ruht der Wünsche Streit,
Nimmer, wie das Haupt der Hyder
Ewig fällt und sich erneut.

Aber, zufrieden mit stillerem Ruhme,
Brechen die Frauen des Augenblicks Blume,
Nähren sie sorgsam mit liebendem Fleiß,
Freier in ihrem gebundenen Wirken,
Reicher als er in des Wissens Bezirken
Und in der Dichtung unendlichem Kreis.

Streng und stolz sich selbst genügend,
Kennt des Mannes kalte Brust,
Herzlich an ein Herz sich schmiegend,
Nicht der Liebe Götterlust,
Kennet nicht den Tausch der Seelen,
Nicht in Tränen schmilzt er hin,
Selbst des Lebens Kämpfe stählen
Härter seinen harten Sinn.

Aber, wie leise vom Zephir ershüttert
Schnell die äolische Harfe erzittert,
Also die fühlende Seele der Frau.
Zärtlich geängstigt vom Bilde der Qualen,
Wallet der liebende Busen, es strahlen
Perlend die Augen von himmlischem Tau.

In der Männer Herrschgebiete
Gilt der Stärke trotzig Recht,
Mit dem Schwert beweist der Scythe,
Und der Perser wird zum Knecht.
Es befehden sich im Grimme
Die Begierden wild und roh,
Und der Eris rauhe Stimme
Waltet, wo die Charis floh.

Aber mit sanft überredender Bitte
Führen die Frauen den Zepter der Sitte,
Löschen die Zwietracht, die tobend entglüht,
Lehren die Kräfte, die feindlich sich hassen,
Sich in der lieblichen Form zu umfassen,
Und vereinen, was ewig sich flieht.

Saturday, March 4, 2017

LOVE’S WAY by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Love leads us upward, to the mountain height,
And, like an angel, stands beside us there;
Then thrusts us, demon-like, in some abyss:
Where, in the darkness of despair, we grope,
Till, suddenly, Love greets us with a kiss
And guides us back to flowery fields of hope.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Thursday, March 2, 2017

Feeling At Peace by Robin Mckinley

Feeling at peace, however fragilely, made it easy to slip
into the visionary end of the dark-sight.

The rose shadows said that they loved the sun, but that they also
loved the dark, where their roots grew through the lightless
mystery of the earth. The roses said: You do not have to choose.
Robin McKinley

Courage by Mary Anne Radmacher

Courage doesn't always roar.
Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end
of the day that says I'll try again tomorrow.
Mary Anne Radmacher

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