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Est autem fides credere quod nondum vides; cuius fidei merces est videre quod credis -
Faith is to believe what you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you believe. (St. Augustine) |
:stillheart:In memory of my beloved cat Emily, who was 19 years old this year - until we meet again, my sweet girl. :stillheart:
Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened. ~ Anatole France Don't cry because it's over, Smile because it happened. ~ Dr. Seuss There is no death. Only a change of worlds. ~ Chief Seattle |
Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.
~Marcel Proust |
Sticking with a theme!!!
“It is often easier to become outraged by injustice half a world away than by oppression and discrimination half a block from home.”
Carl T. Rowan |
I'd rather work like a dog and own my independence, than live in the lap of luxury and be owned.(f)
~Duchess |
Ah! There's nothing like staying home for real comfort.
~Jane Austen |
Not everything that can be counted, counts.
And not everything that counts can be counted. ~Albert Einstein |
"That's going a little too far for me, I like it on bread with tomato."
--Rob |
Wayne Dyer Quotes
"The future is promised to no one."
"Only the insecurity strive for security." "Your children will see what you're all about by how you live rather than what you say." |
"It ain't about how hard you can hit. It's about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward. That is how winning is done."
~Rocky Balboa~ |
All love that has not friendship for its base, Is like a mansion built upon the sand.
~friend's facebook page~ |
When you meet the other 1/2 of your soul you will know why it didnt work out until now & be grateful to those who let you go.
~unknown to me~ |
"History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again" ~Maya Angelou
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"My great hope is to laugh as much as I cry; to get my work done and try to love somebody and have the courage to accept the love in return" ~ Maya Angelou
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Quote:
Thank you Lady Jewel for some Maya... Here is my absolute favourite by her Still I Rise You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? 'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise. Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops. Weakened by my soulful cries. Does my haughtiness offend you? Don't you take it awful hard 'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines Diggin' in my own back yard. You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I'll rise. Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I've got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs? Out of the huts of history's shame I rise Up from a past that's rooted in pain I rise I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise. Maya Angelou |
You asked me whose life was more important- yours or mine and I answered "mine" ; you walked away angry not knowing that YOU are my life
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Another Maya Angelou
The Rock Cries Out to Us
-Read at the 1993 Inaugeration of Ex-President Clinton A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since departed, Mark the mastodon. The dinosaur, who left dry tokens Of their sojourn here On our planet floor, Any broad alarm of their of their hastening doom Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages. But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully, Come, you may stand upon my Back and face your distant destiny, But seek no haven in my shadow. I will give you no hiding place down here. You, created only a little lower than The angels, have crouched too long in The bruising darkness, Have lain too long Face down in ignorance. Your mouths spelling words Armed for slaughter. The rock cries out today, you may stand on me, But do not hide your face. Across the wall of the world, A river sings a beautiful song, Come rest here by my side. Each of you a bordered country, Delicate and strangely made proud, Yet thrusting perpetually under siege. Your armed struggles for profit Have left collars of waste upon My shore, currents of debris upon my breast. Yet, today I call you to my riverside, If you will study war no more. Come, clad in peace and I will sing the songs The Creator gave to me when I And the tree and stone were one. Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your brow And when you yet knew you still knew nothing. The river sings and sings on. There is a true yearning to respond to The singing river and the wise rock. So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew, The African and Native American, the Sioux, The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek, The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh, The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher, The privileged, the homeless, the teacher. They hear. They all hear The speaking of the tree. Today, the first and last of every tree Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the river. Plant yourself beside me, here beside the river. Each of you, descendant of some passed on Traveler, has been paid for. You, who gave me my first name, You Pawnee, Apache and Seneca, You Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, Then forced on bloody feet, Left me to the employment of other seekers-- Desperate for gain, starving for gold. You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot... You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, Bought, sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare Praying for a dream. Here, root yourselves beside me. I am the tree planted by the river, Which will not be moved. I, the rock, I the river, I the tree I am yours--your passages have been paid. Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need For this bright morning dawning for you. History, despite its wrenching pain, Cannot be unlived, and if faced with courage, Need not be lived again. Lift up your eyes upon The day breaking for you. Give birth again To the dream. Women, children, men, Take it into the palms of your hands. Mold it into the shape of your most Private need. Sculpt it into The image of your most public self. Lift up your hearts. Each new hour holds new chances For new beginnings. Do not be wedded forever To fear, yoked eternally To brutishness. The horizon leans forward, Offering you space to place new steps of change. Here, on the pulse of this fine day You may have the courage To look up and out upon me, The rock, the river, the tree, your country. No less to Midas than the mendicant. No less to you now than the mastodon then. Here on the pulse of this new day You may have the grace to look up and out And into your sister's eyes, Into your brother's face, your country And say simply Very simply With hope Good morning |
My cloak only has to fall in order that thou mayest discover a succession of mysteries... -Gustave Flaubert |
“They cannot scare me with their empty spaces between stars -- on stars where no human race is. I have it in me so much nearer home to scare myself with my own desert places.”
Robert Frost “Today we all speak, if not the same tongue, the same universal language. There is no one center, and time has lost its former coherence: East and West, yesterday and tomorrow exist as a confused jumble in each one of us. Different times and different spaces are combined in a here and now that is everywhere at once.” Octavio Paz |
“It is awfully important to know what is and what is not your business.”
-- Gertrude Stein |
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