You’ll have to bear with me here. On Memorial Day, I crushed 3 fingers in a wood splitter, causing a rushed trip to the ER. 2 nail bed repairs, 2 pins, lots of stitches later, I’m on the mend. Except that I can’t do the one thing I need to do, and that’s type! Well, as you can see here, I’m managing, but this whole typing-with-one-finger is aggravating. Four hours later…
Today, I’ll share a few more of my treasured quotes. As you may already know, I keep articles, personal book notes, poems, thoughts, and quotes in an Italian leather journal. The journals always bulge a little, with all I pack into them, but they’re a source of calming wisdom on difficult days.
When nothing seems to help, I go and look at a stone-cutter hammering away at his rock perhaps a hundred times without as much as a crack showing in it. Yet at the hundred and first blow it would split in two, and I know it was not that blow that did it, but all that had gone before together. —Jacob A. Riis
Every man possesses three characters: that which he exhibits, that which he really has, and that which he believes he has. —Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr
A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they shall never sit in. —Greek proverb
There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it. —Edith Wharton
Read, every day, something no one else is reading. Think, every day, something no one else is thinking. Do, every day, something no one else would be silly enough to do. It is bad for the mind to continually be part of unanimity. —Christopher Morley
No one imagines that a symphony is supposed to improve as it goes along, or that the whole object of playing is to reach the finale. The point of music is discovered in every moment of playing and listening to it. It is the same, I feel, with the greater part of our lives, and if we are unduly absorbed in improving them we may forget altogether to live them. —Alan Watts
In all affairs it’s a healthy thing now and then to hang a question mark on the things you have long taken for granted. —Bertrand Russell
There are many people who reach their conclusions about life like schoolboys; they cheat their master by copying the answer out of a book without having worked out the sum for themselves. —Søren Kierkegaard
If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each man’s life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility. —Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The root of all superstition is that men observe when a thing hits, but not when it misses. —Francis Bacon
When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe. —John Muir
How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving and tolerant of the weak and strong. Because some day in life you will have been all of these. —George Washington Carver
In nature there are neither rewards nor punishments; there are consequences. —Robert Green Iingersoll
Everything you add to the truth subtracts from the truth. —Alexander Solzhenitsyn
If we do not want to change and develop, then we might as well remain in a deathlike sleep. —Bruno Bettelheim
Now here was I, new-awakened, with my hand stretching out and touching the unknown, the real unknown, the unknown unknown. —D.H. Lawrence
The familiar life horizon has been outgrown; the old concepts, ideals, the emotional patterns no longer fit; the time for the passing of a threshold is at hand. —Joseph Campbell
We are volcanoes. When we women offer our experience as our truth, all the maps change. There are new mountains. That’s what I want—to hear you erupting. You Mount St. Helenses who don’t know the power in you—I want to hear you…if we don’t tell our truth, who will? —Ursula K. Le Guin
And this lovely poem, leading us “unknowingly yet profusely onwards,” in Armitage’s words. Liliana came in the house last Saturday morning, breathless. ”Mom, I saw a deer!” Mind you: we see them all the time, but each time is as though it’s the first. They’re that magnificent.
The Supple Deer
The quiet opening
between fence strands
perhaps eighteen inches.
Antlers to hind hooves,
four feet off the ground,
the deer poured through it.
No tuft of the coarse white belly hair left behind.
I don’t know how a stag turns
into a stream, an arc of water.
I have never felt such accurate envy.
Not of the deer—
To be that porous, to have such largeness pass through me.
Be observant today. Hold beauty in your heart. We are here such a short time, after all.
[Post image: Deer I snuck up on by cempey on stock.xchng]