Spring Night
THE park is filled with night and fog,
Gold and gleaming the empty streets,
Oh, is it not enough to be
O beauty, are you not enough?
I, for whom the pensive night
Sara Teasdale
The veils are drawn about the world,
The drowsy lights along the paths
Are dim and pearled.
Gold and gleaming the misty lake,
The mirrored lights like sunken swords,
Glimmer and shake.
Here with this beauty over me?
My throat should ache with praise, and I
Should kneel in joy beneath the sky.
Why am I crying after love,
With youth, a singing voice, and eyes
To take earth's wonder with surprise?
Why have I put off my pride,
Why am I unsatisfied,—
Binds her cloudy hair with light,—
I, for whom all beauty burns
Like incense in a million urns?
O beauty, are you not enough?
Why am I crying after love?
Dew
AS dew leaves the cobweb lightly
As dawn leaves the dry grass bright
So has your love, my lover,
IT is enough for me by day
I do not hope to bind the wind
I HAVE no riches but my thoughts,
And I must spend them all in song,
Sara Teasdale
Threaded with stars,
Scattering jewels on the fence
And the pasture bars;
And the tangled weeds
Bearing a rainbow gem
On each of their seeds;
Fresh as the dawn,
Made me a shining road
To travel on,
Set every common sight
Of tree or stone
Delicately alight
For me alone.
Enough
To walk the same bright earth with him;
Enough that over us by night
The same great roof of stars is dim.
Or set a fetter on the sea --
It is enough to feel his love
Blow by like music over me.
Riches
Yet these are wealth enough for me;
My thoughts of you are golden coins
Stamped in the mint of memory;
For thoughts, as well as gold, must be
Left on the hither side of death
To gain their immortality.
)
Being a mother means that your heart is no longer yours;
In the love of a brave and faithful man there is always a strain
A mother's love. It shrinks not where man cowers, and grows stronger
it wanders wherever your children do
George Bernard Shaw
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.
George Eliot
where man faints, and over wastes of worldly fortunes sends the radiance of
its quenchless fidelity like a star.
Edwin Hubbel Chapin
We do not grow absolutely, chronologically.
We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly.
We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm,
childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and
pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present.
We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.
Anais Nin
The value of things is not the time they last,
but the intensity with which they occur.
That is why there are
unforgettable moments and unique people!
Fernando Pessoa
Waiting
SERENE, I fold my hands and wait,
I stay my haste, I make delays,
The stars come nightly to the sky;
John Burroughs
Nor care for wind, or tide, or sea;
I rave no more ’gainst time or fate,
For, lo! my own shall come to me.
For what avails this eager pace?
I stand amid the eternal ways,
And what is mine shall know my face. 
Asleep, awake, by night or day,
The friends I seek are seeking me;
No wind can drive my bark astray,
Nor change the tide of destiny.
What matter if I stand alone?
I wait with joy the coming years;
My heart shall reap where it has sown,
And garner up its fruit of tears.
The waters know their own and draw
The brook that springs in yonder height;
So flows the good with equal law
Unto the soul of pure delight.
The tidal wave unto the sea;
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,
Can keep my own away from me.
Oh sun, how glad thy rays are shed;
How canst thou glory o’er the dead?
Ah, folly this of human pride,
What are the dead to one like thee,
Whose mirror is the mighty tide,
Where time flows to eternity?
A single race, a single age,
What are they in thy pilgrimage?
Elizabeth Landon
If you make it a habit not to blame others,
you will feel the growth of the ability to love in your soul,
and you will see the growth of goodness in your life.
Leo Tolstoy
Seize the moments of happiness, love and be loved!
Love is life. All, everything that I understand,
Everything is, everything exists, only because I love.
Love is God, and to die means that I, a particle of love,
That is the only reality in the world, all else is folly.
Leo Tolstoy
I understand only because I love.
Everything is united by it alone.
shall return to the general and eternal source.
Leo Tolstoy
New Blossoms
Sit near someone who has had the experience.
Walking the section of the market
They will take your money and sit you down
Not every reed is sugarcane.
Not every eye can see.
Instead of that airy commotion
Rumi
Sit under a tree with new blossoms.
where chemists sell essences,
you will receive conflicting advice.
Go towards kindness.
If you are not sure where that is,
you will be drawn in by fakes.
on their doorstep saying, I’ll be right back.
But they have another door they leave by.
Do not dip your cup in a pot
just because it has reached the simmering point.
Not every under has an over.
Or it may be you cannot thread the needle
because it already has thread in it.
Your loving alertness is a lantern.
Keep it protected from wind
that makes it crazy.
live in the water that gently cools
as it flows. Be a helpful friend,
and you will become a green tree
with always new fruit,
always deeper journeys into love.
We cannot decide
There has never been a beauty like yours.
We cannot decide which we love most,
You undid them all at once.
Any power that comes through us is you.
It is better to ask the flowery grass,
If you are seeking, seek us with joy
Do not give your heart to anything else
For there are hopes: they are real, they exist—
Rumi
Your face, your eyes, your presence.
your gracefulness or your generosity.
I came with many knots in my heart,
like the magician's rope.
I see now the splendor of the student
and that of the teacher's art.
Love and this body sit inside your presence,
one demolished, the other drunk.
We smile. We weep, tree limbs
turning sere, then light green.
Any wish. What does a rock know of April?
the jasmine, and the redbud branch.
Seeking
Rumi
For we live in the kingdom of joy.
But to the love of those who are clear joy,
Do not stray into the neighborhood of despair.
Do not go in the direction of darkness—
I tell you: suns exist.
