North winds blow bull dust but winter gales force rain lost in the ocean. Audrey Christophersen

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I find the great thing in this world is not so much where we stand, as in what direction we are moving: To reach the port of heaven, we must sail sometimes with the wind and sometimes against it – but we must sail, and not drift, nor lie at anchor.

– Oliver Wendel Holmes

http://www.bluemooners.com/sailingquotes.htm

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Wind from the West, fish bite the best.
Wind from the East, fish bite the least.
Wind from the North, do not go forth.
Wind from 

the South blows bait in their mouth.

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“The road to Manderley lay ahead. There was no moon. The sky above our heads was inky black. But the sky on the horizon was not dark at all. It was shot with crimson, like a splash of blood. And the ashes blew towards us with the salt wind from the sea.”

― Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca

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The Brisbane Courier (Qld. : 1864 – 1933), Saturday 20 April 1929

1 1 1 1 1 1 1 The Brisbane Courier (Qld. - 1864 - 1933), Saturday 20 April 1929

 

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You were given this life, because you are strong enough to live it. Robin Sharma

 

I’m not funny. What I am is brave. Lucille Ball

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Coming Home

Jan Oskar Hansen
© 2006

My flat was in mourning, layers of dust were veils
of sorrow, I had been away for weeks leaving
it in darkness and in the melancholy of confusing
half light, not nothing whether it was dawn or
evening. I switched on the table lamp opened
a widow and the room breathed in relief, it was
built to house humanity, had felt rejected and
was beginning to take on the lifeless coldness
museums and art galleries have after closing time.

Opened the fridge two tins of tuna fish, wasn’t
hungry, but to the gladness of my heart a bottle
of red wine; uncorked it, lovely aroma, filled it
to the brim and drank. Shrugged of the nonsense
said at the clinic, where ex drunks who had never
enjoyed wine, tried to convert me to a sullen
existence of meekly accepting the arid life. Took
the bottle into the living room switched on the telly
and we, the room and I, were great friends again.

http://www.writerscramp.ca/docs/poetry_and_alcohol.htm

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Poetry and Alcohol

Jan Oskar Hansen
© 2006

The two of us we have lived together long,
she sits in the kitchen watching Brazilian soaps,
I read TLS which gives me an edge even though I think some of the stuff is effete and some of the famous writers and painters are totally overvalued.

I do catch a glance of the TV in the living room from
time to time, a nature program that irritates me, the
Australian hero is actually worrying the wild animals and I hope he will be bitten by a crocodile, or trampled by an irate elephant. No such luck.

Andrew Motion wrote something about oral poetry,
I appeared once at poetry venue, nervously drank
too much, and insulted the organizer. Wish the TLS
would adopt me. Really!  But like late George Best,
I’m a loose cannon liable to tell them to fuck off

http://www.writerscramp.ca/docs/poetry_and_alcohol.htm

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Morning Chronicle (Sydney, NSW : 1843 – 1846), Wednesday 19 June 1844,

1 1 1 1 1 1 Morning Chronicle (Sydney, NSW - 1843 - 1846), Wednesday 19 June 1844,

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No free woman should be allowed any more than one maid to follow her, unless she was drunk.”    

Zaleucus, 7th century BC greek law code.

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Cha mhisd’ a’ ghealach na coin a bhith comhartaich rithe. The moon is none the worse for the dogs’ barking at her.

 

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A Dogs Soul.

Every dog must have a soul
Somewhere deep inside
Where all his hurts and grievances
Are buried with his pride.

Where he decides the good and bad,
The wrong way from the right,
And where his judgement carefully
Is hidden from our sight.

A dog must have a secret place
Where every thought abides,
A sort of close acquaintance that
He trusts in and confides.

And when accused unjustly for
Himself, He cannot speak,
Rebuked, He finds within his soul
The comfort he must seek.

He’ll love, tho’he is unloved,
And he’ll serve tho’badly used,
And one kind word will wipe away
The times when he’s abused.

Altho’ his heart may break in two
His love will still be whole,
Because God gave to every dog
An understanding Soul!

Author Unknown

http://www.wolfweb.com.au/acd/dogsoul.htm

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The Land (Sydney, NSW : 1911 – 1954), Friday 11 March 1921,

1 1 1 1 1 1 The Land (Sydney, NSW - 1911 - 1954), Friday 11 March 1921,

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She learns to listen to her own heart and maintain her strength even as she hides these away beneath the scarf. She knows that sometimes the strongest force is a hidden one. JOY LUCK CLUB.

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A Poem: The Red Scarf

“I like your red scarf.” the worn lady said as she looked at the ground which served as her bed.

Our eyes never met though her words hung in my ears,

and as I walked on they became sharp and clear.

Rushing back to her corner she was still there – I gave her my scarf which she wrapped round her hair.

She looked up at me from her home on the ground, her words were soft so I knelt myself down.

“You didn’t just listen you heard what I said. It’s the warmth I was craving not the beautiful red.”

The gloves on my hands came off as well and I stood up to leave this poor woman’s hell.

As I walked away she called, “Come see me again! I’m always right here.” But she left that corner with me that day and in my mind is held dear.

http://imocat.hubpages.com/hub/A-Poem-The-Red-Scarf

 

 

 

1 1 1 1 1 1 1 alexandrelunoisp00andruoft_0216The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW : 1842 – 1954), Saturday 24 March 1928,

1 1 1 1 1 1 1 The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW - 1842 - 1954), Saturday 24 March 1928,

East is West. If one were given a single window from which to look upon the changing world, it should face, I think, the road. (Freya Stark)

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Upon inspection, three old, wood-framed windows were there, hidden by debris. The windows were closed, even though you could see through the glass. The understanding came swiftly – to really feel the light, the windows must also be open, hanging freely.

(Laurel McCallum)