“You read any Greek myths, puppy? The one about the gorgon Medusa, particularly? I used to wonder what could be so terrible that you couldn’t survive even looking at it. Until I got a little older and I figured out the obvious answer. Everything.”
― Mike Carey & Peter Gross, The Unwritten, Vol. 1: Tommy Taylor and the Bogus Identity
What soap is for the body, tears are for the soul. Jewish Proverb
“Addiction is a family disease. One person may use, but the whole family suffers.”
“He didn’t like to see animals in captivity. When he looked into their eyes, something in their eyes looked back at him.”
― Rick Yancey, The Infinite Sea
“I said to my soul, be still and wait without hope, for hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love, for love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith, but the faith and the love are all in the waiting. Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.”
― T.S. Eliot
The strongest souls dress in suits of scars.
On Drinking Alone by Moonlight
Here are flowers and here is wine,
But where’s a friend with me to join
Hand in hand and heart to heart
In one full cup before we part?
Rather than to drink alone,
I’ll make bold to ask the moon
To condescend to lend her face
The hour and the scene to grace.
Lo, she answers, and she brings
My shadow on her silver wings;
That makes three, and we shall be.
I ween, a merry company
The modest moon declines the cup,
But shadow promptly takes it up,
And when I dance my shadow fleet
Keeps measure with my flying feet.
But though the moon declines to tipple
She dances in yon shining ripple,
And when I sing, my festive song,
The echoes of the moon prolong.
Say, when shall we next meet together?
Surely not in cloudy weather,
For you my boon companions dear
Come only when the sky is clear.
It’s all the same thing to those who know nothing. Used if someone views different things as if they’re all the same. (Lit. It’s all soap to the Bedouins.)
The Maitland Daily Mercury (NSW : 1894 – 1939), Tuesday 31 August 1897
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!
The Land (Sydney, NSW : 1911 – 1954), Friday 11 March 1921,
The Wild Boogie Man
The light of day fades in the sunset
The wild child crouches in the bushes
Waiting for his childhood friend to wander into view
I grabbed the torch one real dark night
and bolted down the yard.
The shadows stretched their long dark arms,
my heart was beating hard.
Mum said there were no boogie men
but I was not so sure.
The wind was howling through the trees
as I ran for the door.
I shone the torch across the seat
then shone it up the wall.
I’d hate to get a spider bite
or see things creep and crawl.
When I was sure that it was safe
I’d hurry up and go.
Then I was done. I’d check again
for any deadly foe.
I made the dash back to the house
the devil at my heels,
and once inside I’d slam the door.
You don’t know how that feels.
One freezing, rainy, winter night
scared, I used a bucket.
When morning came I’d empty it,
I’d just go and chuck it.
Alas, when I woke up next day
forgetting it was there,
I kicked it over spilling it
and cried out in despair.
I sure am glad that things have changed
in places we reside,
’cause I’m not frightened anymore.
The outhouse is inside.
High-souled persons have only two states like that of a bunch of flowers; either they have to be on top of the whole world or they should wither away.
there is neither flower
what is a poet to do
when the night is so exquisite?
from the window
i gaze at the moonlight
while through the bars
the moon gazes back
by Ho Chi Minh
(translated by Joe Dolce)
My heart is Round ready to echo the music of my
family but the Square
within me remains
The Square stops me in my entirety.
Ali Cobby Eckermann
TO My Soul. (1895, August 10). The Queenslander (Brisbane, Qld. : 1866 – 1939), p. 257. Retrieved January 24, 2014, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article21634887
Remember that imagination is the faculty of the soul and that when it suggests new pathways to us we are being invited to explore the territory of the soul in ways that will certainly change and re enchant us.
– Caitlin Matthews
Should never be offered to the mouth of a
Only to someone
Who has the valour and daring
To cut pieces of their soul off with a knife
Then weave them into a blanket
To protect you.
He threw his head back and sang, “‘I am a centaur, yes, a centaur is what I am.’ It’s not like you to wax, Artemis”
“Foaly is singing,” said Holly. “Surely that’s illegal?”
― Eoin Colfer, The Atlantis Complex
When you wake up in the morning, Pooh,” said Piglet at last, “what’s the first thing you say to yourself?”
“What’s for breakfast?” said Pooh. “What do you say, Piglet?”
“I say, I wonder what’s going to happen exciting today?” said Piglet.
Pooh nodded thoughtfully. “It’s the same thing,” he said.”
Ko taku reo taku ohooho, ko taku reo taku mapihi mauria
My language is my awakening, my language is the window to my soul
And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.”
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
The Teapot, Serene and Genteel
The very sight of a teapot puts a smile on the face of most people. One cannot help but think of more serene and genteel times. From a whimsical child’s teapot to an elegant English Teapot, to collectible teapots that adorn some homes,
they are a subtle reminder of all that is good in this world.
~Barbara Roberts (This is me enjoying my 15 minutes of fame!)