“The evening sky was awash with peach, apricot, cream: tender little ice-cream clouds in a wide orange sky.”
― The Golden Compass
Author: Rachel Sally
Garden Full of Lust and Bees
the June nights are long and warm; the roses flowering; and the garden full of lust and bees,
Virginia Woolf, letter to Vanessa Bell
Treizième
And what is it to work with love?
It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.
It is to build a house with affection, even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.
It is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy, even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit.
It is to charge all things you fashion with a breath of your own spirit,
And to know that all the blessed dead are standing about you and watching.
—Khalil Gibran
Happy 13th birthday to La Pêche Fraîche. Lucky lucky.
Not Our Own
The thing about love is that we come alive in bodies not our own.
Colum McCann
Swan Upon Leda
The gateway to the worldThe gun in a trembling handWhere nature unmakes the boundaryThe pillar of myth still standsThe swan upon LedaOccupier upon ancient land
—Hozier
Another Pi(e) Day, come at last!
Crimson Shrine
And her sweet red lips on these lips of mine
Burned like the ruby fire set
In the swinging lamp of a crimson shrine,
Or the bleeding wounds of the pomegranate,
Or the heart of the lotus drenched and wet
With the spilt-out blood of the rose-red wine.
– Oscar Wilde, “In the Gold Room – A Harmony.”
Oh, happy happy Valentine’s Day!
I hope you all had a day that included love and, at the very least, a little sweet treat.
Continue reading “Crimson Shrine”
Frolicsome
I want
to think again of dangerous and noble things.
I want to be light and frolicsome.
I want to be
improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,
as though I had wings.
Starlings in Winter, Mary Oliver
Back With Their Flocks
When the song of the angels is stilled, when the star in the sky is gone,
when the kings and princes are home,
when the shepherds are back with their flocks,
the work of Christmas begins:
to find the lost,
to heal the broken,
to feed the hungry,
to release the prisoner,
to rebuild the nations,
to bring peace among the people, to make music in the heart.
—Howard Thurman
Merry Christmas!
Continue reading “Back With Their Flocks”
Big Time
There are so many kinds of time. The time by which we measure our lives. Months and years.
Or the big time, the time that raises mountains and makes stars.
Or all the things that happen between one heartbeat and the next. It’s hard to live in all those kinds of times.
Easy to forget that you live in all of them.
Robert Charles Wilson, Spin
