When we have run our passion’s heat,
Love hither makes his best retreat.
The gods, that mortal beauty chase,
Still in a tree did end their race:
Apollo hunted Daphne so,
Only that she might laurel grow.
—Andrew Marvell, The Garden, 1681
Category: summer
Edible, or Beautiful
If it is a human thing to do to put something you want, because it’s useful, edible, or beautiful, into a bag, or a basket, or a bit of rolled bark or leaf, or a net woven of your own hair, or what have you, and then take it home with you,
home being another, larger kind of pouch or bag, a container for people, and then later on you take it out and eat it or share it or store it up for winter in a solider container
or put it in the medicine bundle or the shrine or the museum, the holy place, the area that contains what is sacred, and then the next day you probably do much the same again—if to do that is human, if that’s what it takes, then
I am a human being after all. Fully, freely, gladly, for the first time.
—Ursula K. Le Guin, The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction
The Pace of Nature
Adopt the pace of Nature:
her secret is patience.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Summer, Alone, Ripe
If it could only be like this always – always summer, always alone, the fruit always ripe.
Evelyn Waugh
Sweet Reunion
“And God,
please let the deer on the highway
get some kind of heaven.
Something with tall soft grass
and sweet reunion.”
Althea Davis
Spice and Scent
Like this alabaster box whose art
Is frail as a cassia-flower, is my heart,
Carven with delicate dreams and wrought
With many a subtle and exquisite thought.
Therein I treasure the spice and scent
Of rich and passionate memories blent
Like odours of cinnamon, sandal, and clove,
Of song and sorrow and life and love.
—Sarojini Naidu
40 Days and 40 Nights
I was taught if we’re born with love then life is about choosing the right place to put it.
People talk about that a lot, feeling right, when it feels right it’s easy. But I’m not sure that’s true. It takes strength to know what’s right. And love isn’t something that weak people do. Being a romantic takes a hell of a lot of hope.
I think what they mean is, when you find somebody that you love, it feels like hope.
—The Priest, Fleabag
Kira-Kira
I watched a swatch of the sky turn red.
The red spread like blood in the sea: red, red, red, and then less and less red, until there was only blue left.
I squinted as the sun rose.
― Kira-Kira
New Crops
Vines will be planted, corn will spring up, a whole growth of new crops; and people will still fall in love in vintages and harvests yet to come. Life is eternal; it is a perpetual renewal of birth and growth.
Emile Zola
