"You cannot direct the wind,

♥

"The arts are not a way of making a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something."

“— Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country, 2005

"Life is very much about rule breaking, about confrontation. Otherwise history would just stand still. Someone has to come along and break the rules and try for whatever reason to go about things a different way. Even if it is a simple sense of adventure, a sense of exploration. You explore concepts and things that interest you, but you are also exploring inside of yourself."— Ed Paschke

“Nothing in the world is permanent, and we’re foolish when we ask anything to last, but surely we’re still more foolish not to take delight in it while we have it.” — W. Somerset Maugham, The Razor’s Edge

"What is hardest to accept about the passage of time is the people that once mattered the most to us are wrapped up in parenthesis." - John Irving, The Cider House Rules

Put it behind you.♥



(♥)

Leaves of Grass

"I exist as I am, that is enough,
If no other in the world be aware I sit content,
And if each and all be aware I sit content.

One world is aware, and by far the largest to me, and that is MYSELF,
And whether I come to my own today or in 10 thousand years or 10 million years,
I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can wait."


♥


Nothing is ever really lost, or can be lost,
No birth, identity, form — no object of the world.
Nor life, nor force, nor any visible thing;
Appearance must not foil, nor shifted sphere confuse thy brain.
Ample are time and space — ample the fields of Nature.
The body, sluggish, aged, cold — the embers left from earlier fires,
The light in the eye grown dim, shall duly flame again;
The sun now low in the west rises for mornings and for noons continual;
To frozen clods ever the spring's invisible law returns,
With grass and flowers and summer fruits and corn.