She was like me in lineaments– her eyes
Her hair, her features, all, to the very tone
Even of her voice, they said were like to mine;
But soften’d all, and temper’d into beauty;
She had the same lone thoughts and wanderings,
The quest of hidden knowledge, and a mind
To comprehend the universe: nor these
Alone, but with them gentler powers than mine,
Pity, and smiles, and tears– which I had not;
And tenderness– but that I had for her;
Humility– and that I never had.
Her faults were mine– her virtues were her own–
I loved her, and destroy’d her! – Byron
When we two parted in silence and tears, Half broken-hearted, To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss; Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this.
The dew of the morning Sank chill on my brow— It felt like the warning Of what I feel now. Thy vows are all broken, And light is thy fame: I hear thy name spoken, And share in its shame.
They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear; A shudder comes o’er me— Why wert thou so dear? They know not I knew thee, Who knew thee too well:— Long, long shall I rue thee Too deeply to tell. In secret we met— In silence I grieve That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee?— With silence and tears . . . ― Byron
Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go it is useless to inquire – in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom? ― Byron
I almost wish we were butterflies and liv’d but three summer days – three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain. ― John Keats
O solitude! if I must with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep,—
Nature’s observatory—whence the dell,
Its flowery slopes, its river’s crystal swell,
May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep
‘Mongst boughs pavillion’d, where the deer’s swift leap
Startles the wild bee from the fox-glove bell.
But though I’ll gladly trace these scenes with thee,
Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind,
Whose words are images of thoughts refin’d,
Is my soul’s pleasure; and it sure must be
Almost the highest bliss of human-kind,
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.
– John Keats
The best and most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or even touched, They must be felt with the heart . . . -Helen Keller
When misfortunes are so real, we’re glad enough to escape them and their thought . . . – John Keats
I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am . . . -Sylvia Plath
“Colour is the key. The eye is the hammer. The soul is the piano with its many chords. The artist is the hand that, by touching this or that key, sets the soul vibrating automatically . . . Wassily Kandinsky
Walking, working, barely breathing
My thoughts, far away
Heart aching, mind racing
Sleep does not come easily, nor last long . . .
– Peter Winstanley
Inside my empty bottle I was constructing a lighthouse while all the others were making ships . . . – Charles Simic
“I am no one special. Just a common man with common thoughts. I’ve led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but in one respect I’ve succeeded as gloriously as anyone who ever lived. I’ve loved another with all my heart and soul and for me that has always been enough. — Nicholas Sparks (The Notebook)
The stupidity inside me is a stupidity of passion in love, rather than a stupidity of intellect…..
One life ends, another begins_Sooner or later though_You always have to wake up . . . – Avatar
I doubt, therefore I think, therefore I am . . . – Rene Descartes
I AM THE PUNISHMENT OF GOD.
IF YOU HAD NOT COMMITTED GREAT SINS,
GOD WOULD NOT HAVE SENT
A PUNISHMENT LIKE ME UPON YOU . . . – GENGHIS KHAN
beyond all concepts of
wrong doing and right doing
There is a field…
I will meet you there . . . – Rumi
There is pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal . . . – Lord Byron
“I cannot exist without you – I am forgetful of every thing but seeing you again – my Life seems to stop there – I see no further. You have absorb’d me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I were dissolving… I have been astonished that Men could die Martyrs for religion – I have shudder’d at it – I shudder no more – I could be martyr’d for my Religion – Love is my religion – I could die for that – I could die for you. My creed is Love and you are its only tenet – You have ravish’d me away by a Power I cannot resist.”
― John Keats
I have been astonished that men could die martyrs
for their religion–
I have shuddered at it,
I shudder no more.
I could be martyred for my religion.
Love is my religion
and I could die for that.
I could die for you.
― John Keats
Either move or be moved . . . Ezra Pound
There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter . . . Ernest Hemingway
You say you Love the Rain, but you use an umbrella to walk under it. You say you Love the Sun, but you seek shade when it’s shining. You say you Love the Wind, but when it comes you close your window. So that’s why I’m scared when you say you Love Me . . . – Bob Marley
Some people feel like they don’t deserve love. They walk away quietly into empty spaces, trying to close the gaps of the past . . . – Christopher McCandless ~ Into The Wild
He repeated until his dying day that there was no one with more common sense, no stone cutter more obstinate, no manager more lucid or dangerous, than a poet . . . ― Gabriel García Márquez
Oh, the terrible struggle that I have had against sleep so often of late; the pain of the sleeplessness, or the pain of the fear of sleep, and with such unknown horror as it has for me! How blessed are some people, whose lives have no fears, no dreads; to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly, and brings nothing but sweet dreams . . . ― Bram Stoker, Dracula
Others may question your credentials, your papers, your degrees. Others may look for all kinds of ways to diminish your worth. But what is inside you no one can take from you or tarnish. This is your worth, who you really are, your degree that can go with you wherever you go, that you bring with you the moment you come into a room, that can’t be manipulated or shaken. Without that sense of self, no amount of paper, no pedigree, and no credentials can make you legit. No matter what, you have to feel legit inside first . . . ― Chris Gardner, The Pursuit of Happyness
Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.” ― Oscar Wilde
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.” ― Pablo Neruda