“It's good to cry a bit, 'cause that helps us get through the rough parts. And the winter is though, there's no doubt. But we just hang on until spring when that ache will be all but swallowed up.”
― Forest Born
― Forest Born
“Thousands of hopeful days came to naught before this one. This was a golden day. Never give up.”
― Making Wishes: Quotes, Thoughts, & a Little Poetry for Every Day of the Year
― Making Wishes: Quotes, Thoughts, & a Little Poetry for Every Day of the Year
“When we hold-on to someone's imperfections we become emotionally pair-bonded to their maladies.”
― Simple Reminders: Inspiration for Living Your Best Life
― Simple Reminders: Inspiration for Living Your Best Life
“Odd, the words: ‘while away the time’.
How to hold it fast the harder thing.
Who is not fearful: where is there a staying,
where in all this is there any being?
Look, as the day slows towards the space
that draws it into dusk: rising became
upstanding, standing a laying down, and then
that which accepts its lying blurs to darkness.
Mountains rest, outgloried be the stars -
but even there, time’s transition glimmers.
Ah, nightly refuged in my wild heart,
roofless, the imperishable lingers.
---
Wunderliches Wort: die Zeit vertreiben!
Sie zu halten, wäre das Problem.
Denn, wen ängstigts nicht: wo ist ein Bleiben,
wo ein endlich Sein in alledem? -
Sieh, der Tag verlangsamt sich, entgegen
jenem Raum, der ihn nach Abend nimmt:
Aufstehn wurde Stehn, und Stehn wird Legen,
und das willig Liegende verschwimmt -
Berge ruhn, von Sternen überprächtigt; -
aber auch in ihnen flimmert Zeit.
Ach, in meinem wilden Herzen nächtigt
obdachlos die Unvergänglichkeit.”
―
How to hold it fast the harder thing.
Who is not fearful: where is there a staying,
where in all this is there any being?
Look, as the day slows towards the space
that draws it into dusk: rising became
upstanding, standing a laying down, and then
that which accepts its lying blurs to darkness.
Mountains rest, outgloried be the stars -
but even there, time’s transition glimmers.
Ah, nightly refuged in my wild heart,
roofless, the imperishable lingers.
---
Wunderliches Wort: die Zeit vertreiben!
Sie zu halten, wäre das Problem.
Denn, wen ängstigts nicht: wo ist ein Bleiben,
wo ein endlich Sein in alledem? -
Sieh, der Tag verlangsamt sich, entgegen
jenem Raum, der ihn nach Abend nimmt:
Aufstehn wurde Stehn, und Stehn wird Legen,
und das willig Liegende verschwimmt -
Berge ruhn, von Sternen überprächtigt; -
aber auch in ihnen flimmert Zeit.
Ach, in meinem wilden Herzen nächtigt
obdachlos die Unvergänglichkeit.”
―
“Like a flower pressed flat and dried, we try to hold it still and say, this is exactly how it was the day I first saw it. But like the flower, the past cannot be trapped that way. It loses its fragrance and and its vitality, its fragility becomes brittleness and its colors fade. And when next you look on the flower, you know that it is not at all what you sought to capture, that that moment has fled forever.”
― Fool's Errand
― Fool's Errand
Joy’s 2025 Year in Books
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