“Every child is born a naturalist. His eyes are, by nature, open to the glories of the stars, the beauty of the flowers, and the mystery of life.”
– R. Search
The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW : 1842 – 1954), Saturday 24 December 1927
I see a lilly on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever dew;
And on thy cheek a fading rose
Fast withereth too.
I met a lady in the meads
Full beautiful, a faery’s child;
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.
Golden Wattle, fairy stuff
Little balls of yellow fluff
Hear the bees how loud they hum
To say they’re glad that Spring is come
When the stars begin to peep
Then the wattle falls asleep
Like a tired child in bed
It droops its pretty curly head
(Song contributed by Mrs Jenny Sayer, who copied it out of her Headmistress’ Assembly Book (Miss Leslie Bridle) at Sans Souci Public School in 195
Queensland Times (Ipswich) (Qld. : 1909 – 1954), Monday 27 April 1953,
A Mother’s Parable by Temple Baily
The young mother set her foot on the path of Life. “Is the way long?” she asked. And her Guide said, “Yes, and the way is hard. And you will be old before you reach the end of it. But the end will be better than the beginning.”
But the young mother was happy, and she would not believe that anything could be better than these years. So she played with her children, and gathered flowers for them along the way, and bathed with them in the streams, and the sun shone on them, and life was good, and the young mother cried, “Nothing will ever be lovelier than this.”
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
Wind from the West, fish bite the best.
Wind from the East, fish bite the least.
Wind from the North, do not go forth.
the South blows bait in their mouth.
“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
The Brisbane Courier (Qld. : 1864 – 1933), Saturday 20 April 1929
I want my life to be a mountain stream that rushes down wild flowered slopes through pine glades into green valleys, I do not want culverts to contain my force or cement to channel my flow, nothing to break my life’s course with roots, stones and sand.
– Lowell McMullin
If you knew what was going to happen, if you knew everything that was going to happen next—if you knew in advance the consequences of your own actions—you’d be doomed. You’d be ruined as God. You’d be a stone. You’d never eat or drink or laugh or get out of bed in the morning. You’d never love anyone, ever again. You’d never dare to.”
Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin
Which artist painted that?
Chances are the artist attends school now
and learns more and more logic
and language skills each day. Still
ocean seeks grass, river reflects
sky. His poem about a truck
is illustrated and pinned on
the display board. In his poem
the truck carries things
and drives between shops, but
it has a disquietening element the author
will not change: his truck drives
north, it seeks North unerringly.
Teachers dismiss this as
a blemish, Father wants to know
how the truck will ever return to base,
and Mother tousles his hair, saying,
He’s just a boy, he’s just a boy.
Grandpa bends down to ask,
Do you want to be a truckdriver
when you grow up? No, he shakes
his head, a scientist, only
a scientist. Can’t they see that?
A fish from the river, a staff from the wood and a deer from the mountain – thefts no Gael was ever ashamed of.
— Florence King
1936-, American Author, Critic
Every house should have a Christ’s room. The coat which hangs in your closet belongs to the poor. If your brother comes to you hungry and you say, Go be thou filled, what kind of hospitality is that? It is no use turning people away to an agency, to the city or the state or the Catholic Charities. It is you yourself who must perform the works of mercy. Often you can only give the price of a meal, or a bed on the Bowery. Often you can only hope that it will be spent for that. Often you can literally take off a garment if it only be a scarf and warm some shivering brother. But personally, at a personal sacrifice, these were the ways Peter used to insist, to combat the growing tendency on the part of the State to take over. The great danger was the State taking over the job which our Lord Himself gave us to do, “Inasmuch as you did it unto one of the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto me.“
-T-Shirt” ― Darynda Jones, Third Grave Dead Ahead
No one can persuade another to change. Each of us guards a gate of change that can only be opened from the inside. We cannot open the gate of another, either by argument or emotional appeal.
“The ship of my life may or may not be sailing on calm and amiable seas. The challenging days of my existence may or may not be bright and promising. Stormy or sunny days, glorious or lonely nights, I maintain an attitude of gratitude. If I insist on being pessimistic, there is always tomorrow. Today I am blessed.”
― Maya Angelou
― Eileen Kennedy-Moore, Smart Parenting for Smart Kids: Nurturing Your Child’s True Potential
“One of the greatest challenges I’ve faced as a mother-especially in these anxious, winner-takes-all times-is the need to resist the urge to accept someone else’s definition of success and to try to figure out, instead, what really is best for my own children, what unique combination of structure and freedom, nurturing and challenge, education and exploration, each of them needs in order to grow and bloom.”
― Katrina Kenison, The Gift of an Ordinary Day: A Mother’s Memoir