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"Remember this if you forget nothing else. A poet is a musician who can't sing. Words have to find a man's mind before they can touch a man's heart, and some men's minds are woeful small targets. Music touches their hearts directly no matter how small or stubborn the mind of the man who listens." — Jan 21, 2014 05:44PM
"Remember this if you forget nothing else. A poet is a musician who can't sing. Words have to find a man's mind before they can touch a man's heart, and some men's minds are woeful small targets. Music touches their hearts directly no matter how small or stubborn the mind of the man who listens." — Jan 21, 2014 05:44PM
“Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence.”
― ANTOINE DE SAINT-EXUPERY - MAN
― ANTOINE DE SAINT-EXUPERY - MAN
“Home is behind, the world ahead,
and there are many paths to tread
through shadows to the edge of night,
until the stars are all alight.”
― The Lord of the Rings
and there are many paths to tread
through shadows to the edge of night,
until the stars are all alight.”
― The Lord of the Rings
“I sit beside the fire and think
Of all that I have seen
Of meadow flowers and butterflies
In summers that have been
Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair
I sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever see
For still there are so many things
That I have never seen
In every wood in every spring
There is a different green
I sit beside the fire and think
Of people long ago
And people that will see a world
That I shall never know
But all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before
I listen for returning feet
And voices at the door”
―
Of all that I have seen
Of meadow flowers and butterflies
In summers that have been
Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair
I sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever see
For still there are so many things
That I have never seen
In every wood in every spring
There is a different green
I sit beside the fire and think
Of people long ago
And people that will see a world
That I shall never know
But all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before
I listen for returning feet
And voices at the door”
―
TBC, "The Book Club"
— 24 members
— last activity Dec 12, 2013 09:49AM
TBC will remain until we come up with a better name for now! A bunch of great ladies getting together in the parks of NYC each month with a delicious ...more
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