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I do not want people to be very agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them a great deal - Jane Austen

Small acts, when multiplied by millions of people, can transform the world. - Howard Zinn

"Chaque expérience de beauté rappelle un paradis perdu et appelle un paradis promis " François Cheng

- "Aprendi o silêncio com os faladores, a tolerância com os intolerantes, a bondade com os maldosos; e, por estranho que pareça, sou grato a esses professores. Khalil Gibran

#Khalil Gibran #Literature

"A man can be himself alone so long as he is alone… if he does not love solitude, he will not love freedom; for it is only when he is alone that he is really free." ~ Arthur Schopenhauer

#Arthur Schopenhauer #Literature

"I said to my soul be still." ~T.S. Eliot

#T.S. Eliot #Literature

Blue

Blue, but you are Rose, too, and buttermilk, but with blood dots showing through. A little salty your white nape boy-wide.Glinting hairs shoot back of your ears' Rose that tongues like to feel the maze of, slip into the funnel, tell a thunder-whisper to. When I kiss, your eyes' straight lashes down crisp go like doll's blond straws.Glazed iris Roses, your lids unclose to Blue-ringed targets, their dark sheen-spokes almost green.I sink in Blue- black Rose-heart holes until you blink.Pink lips, the serrate folds taste smooth, and Rosehip- round, the center bud I suck. I milknip your two Blue-skeined blown Rose beauties, too, to sniff their berries' blood, up stiff pink tips.You're white in patches, only mostly Rose, buckskin and saltly, speckled like a sky.I love your spots, your white neck, Rose, your hair's wild straw splash, silk spools for your ears.But where white spouts out, spills on your brow to clear eyepools, wheel shafts of light, Rose, you are Blue.

May Swenson

#May Swenson #Blue #poetry #literature

Aware

When I found the door I found the vine leaves speaking among themselves in abundant whispers. My presence made them hush their green breath, embarrassed, the way humans stand up, buttoning their jackets, acting as if they were leaving anyway, as if the conversation had ended just before you arrived. I liked the glimpse I had, though, of their obscure gestures. I liked the sound of such private voices. Next time I'll move like cautious sunlight, open the door by fractions, eavesdrop peacefully.

Denise Levertov

#Denise Levertov #Aware #poetry #literature

A Serenade

I watch Inesilla Thy window beneath, Deep slumbers the villa In night's dusky sheath. Enamoured I linger, Close mantled, for thee-- With sword and with guitar, O look once on me! Art sleeping? Wilt wake thee Guitar tones so light? The argus-eyed greybeard My swift sword shall smite. The ladder of ropes Throw me fearlessly now! Dost falter? Hast thou, Sweet, Been false to thy vow? I watch Inesilla Thy window beneath, Deep slumbers the villa In night's dusky sheath!

Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

#Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin #A Serenade #literature #poetry

Lucy's Song

How beautiful at eventide To see the twilight shadows pale, Steal o'er the landscape, far and wide, O'er stream and meadow, mound and dale! How soft is Nature's calm repose When ev'ning skies their cool dews weep: The gentlest wind more gently blows, As if to soothe her in her sleep! The gay morn breaks, Mists roll away, All Nature awakes To glorious day. In my breast alone Dark shadows remain; The peace it has known It can never regain.

Charles Dickens

#Charles Dickens #Lucy's Song #poetry #literature

Brotherhood

I am a man: little do I last and the night is enormous. But I look up: the stars write. Unknowing I understand: I too am written, and at this very moment someone spells me out.

Octavio Paz

#Octavio Paz #Brotherhood #poetry #literature

I Think Of You...

I think of you and I feel the scent of my mother my mother, the most beautiful of all. You are on the carousel of the festival inside me you hover around, your skirt and your hair flying Mere seconds between finding your beautiful face and losing it. What is the reason, why do I remember you like a wound on my heart what is the reason that I hear your voice when you are so far and I can't help getting up with excitement? I kneel down and look at your hands I want to touch your hands but I can't you are behind a glass. Sweetheart, I am a bewildered spectator of the drama that I am playing in my twilight.

Nazim Hikmet

#Nazim Hikmet #I Think Of You...#literature

I Love You

I love you

like dipping bread into salt and eating

Like waking up at night with high fever

and drinking water, with the tap in my mouth

Like unwrapping the heavy box from the postman

with no clue what it is

fluttering, happy, doubtful

I love you

like flying over the sea in a plane for the first time

Like something moves inside me

when it gets dark softly in Istanbul

I love you

Like thanking God that we live.

Nazim Hikmet

#Nazim Hikmet #I Love You #poetry #literature

Brussels

Boulevard du Régent July Flowerbeds of amaranths right up to The pleasant palace of Jupiter. - I know it is Thou, who is this place, Minglest thine almost Saharan Blue ! Then, since rose and fir-tree of the sun And tropical creeper have their play enclosed here, The little widow's cage !... What, Flocks of birds, o iaio, iaio !... - Calm houses, old passions ! Summerhouse of the Lady who ran mad for love. After the buttocks of the rosebushes, the balcony Of Juliet, shadowy and very low. - La Juliette, that reminds me of l'Henriette, A charming railway station, At the heart of a mountain, as if the bottom of an orchard Where a thousand blue devils dance in the air ! Green bench where in stormy paradise, The white Irish girl sings to the guitar. Then, from the Guianian dining-room, Chatter of children and of cages. The duke's window which makes me think Of the poison of snails and of boxwood Sleeping down here in the sun. And then, It is too beautiful ! too ! Let us maintain our silence. - Boulevard without movement or business, Dumb, every drama and every comedy, Unending concentration of scenes, I know you and I admire you in silence. *** Is she an Almeh ?... in the first blue hours Will she destroy herself like flowers of fire... In front of the splendid sweep where one may smell The enormous flowering city's breath ! It's too beautiful ! It's too beautiful ! but it is necessary - For the Fisherwoman* and the Corsair's song, And also because the last masqueraders still believed In nocturnal festivities on the pure sea !

Arthur Rimbaud

#Arthur Rimbaud #Brussels #literature #poetry

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