Archives - April 2006

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

He who saddens
At thought of idleness cannot be idle,
And he's awake who thinks himself asleep.

If I can stop one heart from breaking
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

What's madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstance?

No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings.

A hair perhaps divides the False and True.

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footsteps on the sands of time.

For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: "It might have been!"

If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

We are liars, because
the truth of yesterday becomes a lie tomorrow,
whereas letters are fixed,
and we live by the letter of truth.

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Words add to the senses. The words for the dazzle
Of mica, the dithering of grass,
The Arache integument of dead trees,
Are the eye grown larger, more intense.

Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;
Nought may endure but Mutability.

Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change.

Long is the way
And hard, that out of hell leads up to light.

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.

Why! Who makes much of a miracle?
As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles.

The soul would have no rainbow
Had the eyes no tears.

The loss
of the dream
Leaves nothing
the same.

Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies.

But now I only know I am --- that's all.

But, when the days of golden dreams had perished,
Ane even despair was powerless to destroy,
Then did I learn how existence could be cherished,
Strengthened, and fed without the aid of joy.

Young blood must have its course, lad,
and every dog its day.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Listen here. I've never played it safe
in spite of what the critics say.

Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I am his Highness' dog at Kew;
Pray tell me, Sir, whose dog are you?

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.

Through love, through home, and faith's transcendent dower,
We feel we are greater than we know.

Such simple things,
And we make of them something so complex it defeats us,
Almost. Why can't everything be simple again?...

Don't bend; don't water it down; don't try to make it logical; don't edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.