On the relatively rare occasion of reading one of the good books, I was of course reminded of this glorious song by Joni Mitchell … Love Although I speak in tongues Of men and angels I’m just sounding brass And tinkling cymbals without love Love suffers long Love is kind! Enduring all things Love […]
Aunt Julia spoke Gaelic very loud and very fast. I could not answer her — I could not understand her. She wore men’s boots when she wore any. — I can see her strong foot, stained with peat, paddling with the treadle of the spinningwheel while her right hand drew yarn marvellously out of the […]
Barely a twelvemonth after The seven days war that put the world to sleep, Late in the evening the strange horses came. By then we had made our covenant with silence, But in the first few days it was so still We listened to our breathing and were afraid. On the second day The radios […]
Out of your melancholy moping, your impotence, Gaels,
(You stir the heart, you think? . . . but surely
One of the heart’s main functions is to supply the brain!)
Maya Angelou April 4, 1928 – May 28, 2014
The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible,
but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.
Vincent Van Gogh
After great pain a formal feeling comes– The nerves sit ceremonious like tombs; The stiff Heart questions–was it He that bore? And yesterday–or centuries before? The feet, mechanical, go round A wooden way Of ground, or air, or ought, Regardless grown, A quartz contentment, like a stone. This is the hour of lead Remembered if […]
To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.
You were the one for skylights, I opposed Cutting into the seasoned tongue-and-groove Of pitch pine. I liked it low and closed, Its claustrophobic, nest-up-in-the-roof Effect. I liked the snuff-dry feeling, The perfect, trunk-lid fit of the old ceiling. Under there, it was all hutch and hatch. The blue slates kept the heat like midnight […]
Wer nicht mehr liebt und nicht mehr irrt,
der lasse sich begraben.
If you no longer love and no longer err,
best let yourself be buried.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe