I to my perils
Of cheat and charmer
Came clad in armour
By stars benign.
Hope lies to mortals
And most believe her,
But man's deceiver
Was never mine.
The thoughts of others
Were light and fleeting,
Of lovers' meeting
Or luck or fame.
Mine were of trouble,
And mine were steady,
So I was ready
When trouble came.
A. E. Housman
You were made for enjoyment,
and the world was filled
with things which you will enjoy,
unless you are too proud
to be pleased with them,
or too grasping to care
for what you cannot turn
to other account than mere delight.
Remember that the most beautiful things in the world
are the most useless:
peacocks and lilies, for instance.
John Ruskin, The Stones of Venice
God made everything out of nothing.
But the nothingness shows through.
Paul Valery, Mauvaises Pensées et Autres
Nothing in life
is as important as you think it is
when you are thinking about it.
Daniel Kahneman, Thinking Fast and Slow
George Balanchine
We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
To a destination where all signs tell us
It is possible and imperative that we learn
A brave and startling truthAnd when we come to it
To the day of peacemaking
When we release our fingers
From fists of hostility
And allow the pure air to cool our palmsWhen we come to it
When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate
And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean
When battlefields and coliseum
No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters
Up with the bruised and bloody grass
To lie in identical plots in foreign soilWhen the rapacious storming of the churches
The screaming racket in the temples have ceased
When the pennants are waving gaily
When the banners of the world tremble
Stoutly in the good, clean breezeWhen we come to it
When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders
And children dress their dolls in flags of truce
When land mines of death have been removed
And the aged can walk into evenings of peace
When religious ritual is not perfumed
By the incense of burning flesh
And childhood dreams are not kicked awake
By nightmares of abuseWhen we come to it
Then we will confess that not the Pyramids
With their stones set in mysterious perfection
Nor the Gardens of Babylon
Hanging as eternal beauty
In our collective memory
Not the Grand Canyon
Kindled into delicious color
By Western sunsetsNor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe
Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji
Stretching to the Rising Sun
Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor,
Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores
These are not the only wonders of the worldWhen we come to it
We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe
Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger
Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace
We, this people on this mote of matter
In whose mouths abide cankerous words
Which challenge our very existence
Yet out of those same mouths
Come songs of such exquisite sweetness
That the heart falters in its labor
And the body is quieted into aweWe, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
And the proud back is glad to bend
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
We learn that we are neither devils nor divinesWhen we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fearWhen we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it.
Maya Angelou
I like insects for their stupidity.
A paper wasp—Polistes—
is fumbling at the stained-glass window on my right.
I saw the same sight in the same spot last Sunday:
Pssst! Idiot! Sweetheart! Go around by the door!
I hope we seem as endearingly stupid to God—
bumbling down into lamps, running half-wit across the floor,
banging for days at the hinge of an opened door.
I hope so.
It does not seem likely.
Annie Dillard, Teaching a Stone to Talk
A human being is a part of the whole,
called by us "Universe",
a part limited in time and space.
He experiences himself,
his thoughts and feelings
as something separated from the rest—
a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness.
This delusion is a kind of prison for us,
restricting us to our personal desires
and to affection for a few persons nearest to us.
Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison
by widening our circle of compassion
to embrace all living creatures
and the whole of nature in its beauty.
Nobody is able to achieve this completely,
but the striving for such achievement
is in itself a part of the liberation
and a foundation for inner security.
Albert Einstein, Letter of 1950
The earth said
remember me.
The earth said
don’t let go,
said it one day
when I was
accidentally
listening, I
heard it, I felt it
like temperature,
all said in a
whisper—build to-
morrow, make right be-
fall, you are not
free, other scenes
are not taking
place, time is not filled,
time is not late, there is
a thing the emptiness
needs as you need
emptiness, it
shrinks from light again &
again, although all things
are present, a
fact a day a
bird that warps the
arithmetic of per-
fection with its
arc, passing again &
again in the evening
air, in the pre-
vailing wind, making no
mistake—yr in-
difference is yr
principal beauty
the mind says all the
time—I hear it—I
hear it every-
where. The earth
said remember
me. I am the
earth it said. Re-
member me.
Jorie Graham
The ultimate test of man's conscience
may be his willingness
to sacrifice something today
for future generations
whose words of thanks will not be heard.
Gaylord Nelson, founder of Earth Day
I don’t know why people are so keen
to put the details of their private life in public;
they forget that invisibility is a superpower.
Banksy
Because it’s too damn beautiful for anybody to die.
Kenneth Patchen
You are a member of the British royal family.
We are never tired, and we all love hospitals.
Mary of Teck, Queen Consort of King George V, 1910-1936
Perhaps the cause of our contemporary pessimism
is our tendency to view history as a turbulent stream of conflicts —
between individuals in economic life, between groups in politics,
between creeds in religion, between states in war.
This is the more dramatic side of history;
it captures the eye of the historian and the interest of the reader.
But if we turn from that Mississippi of strife,
hot with hate and dark with blood,
to look upon the banks of the stream,
we find quieter but more inspiring scenes:
women rearing children, men building homes,
peasants drawing food from the soil,
artisans making the conveniences of life,
statesmen sometimes organizing peace instead of war,
teachers forming savages into citizens,
musicians taming our hearts with harmony and rhythm,
scientists patiently accumulating knowledge,
philosophers groping for truth,
saints suggesting the wisdom of love.
History has been too often a picture of the bloody stream.
The history of civilization is a record of what happened on the banks.
Will Durant, The Gentle Philosopher by John Little
The individual has always had to struggle
to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe.
If you try it, you will often be lonely,
and sometimes frightened.
But no price is too high to pay
for the privilege of owning yourself.
Rudyard Kipling, Readers Digest 1935
The Missing All — prevented Me
From missing minor Things.
If nothing larger than a World's
Departure from a Hinge —
Or Sun's extinction, be observed —
'Twas not so large that I
Could lift my Forehead from my work
For Curiosity.
Emily Dickinson
The safe course is to avoid situations
which are disagreeable and dangerous.
Such a course might get one by the issue of the moment,
but it has bitter and evil consequences.
In the long days and years
which stretch beyond that moment of decision,
one must live with one’s self....
It is not merely a question of peace of mind,
although that is vital;
it is a matter of integrity of character.
Dean Acheson, New York Times Book Review
Prayer does not use up artificial energy,
doesn't burn up any fossil fuel,
doesn't pollute.
Neither does song,
neither does love,
neither does the dance.
Margaret Mead, Margaret Mead: A Life, Jane Howard