“So it is: we are not given a short life but we make it short, and we are not Ill-supplied but wasteful of it.” […] All things that are still to come lie in uncertainty; live straightway!” ― Lucius Annæus Seneca, On the Shortness of Life Thank you, for sharing my journey with me! P.S. Get your friends subscribe to the newsletter!
“However mean your life is, meet it and live it; do not shun it and call it hard names. It is not so bad as you are. It looks poorest when you are richest. The fault-finder will find faults even in paradise. Love your life, poor as it is. You may perhaps have some pleasant, thrilling, glorious hours, even in a poorhouse. The setting sun is reflected from the windows of the almshouse as brightly as from the rich man’s abode;...
Click the pic for a larger one Love looks pretty on you. Makes you soft, tender, proud. Makes you sit up and take notice. Gives you a home to set down your things. What a blessing it is, to have music and dancing and poetry. What a gift it is, to look at someone and say, I’m so happy to have found you at last, at last, at long, long last...
Click the pic for a bigger photo “The stars are beautiful, because of a flower that cannot be seen.” I replied, “Yes, that is so.’ And, without saying anything more, I looked across the ridges of sand that were stretched out before us in the moonlight. “The desert is beautiful,” the little prince added. “What makes the desert beautiful,” said the little prince, “is that somewhere it hides a well …”...
I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I intended to be. — Douglas Adams (Shot on the long, beautiful, northern stretch of the E75, between Ivalo and Utsjoki.) P.S. More photography? Subscribe!
This birthday is my first without Daddy. And so this post today, because I want these words out of my head and heart, before they overwhelm me. Dad & I have birthdays immediately following each other (the 25th & 26th.) All my birthday memories are inextricably linked with him. Him being indulgent with his firstborn. Him holding me close and sharing his cake with me as I grew. Him taking care of me and letting me crawl into his lap to say our prayers on cold mornings in our small drafty house....
The new table goes on for miles and miles :) Thank you mummy! From me and my broken back :)
Mothers yielding Bibles, contemplating smearing the blood of lamb chops over her doorway. Anything to keep her son alive another day. — Antonia Perdu
In geometry, a cupola is a solid formed by joining two polygons, one (the base) with twice as many edges as the other, by an alternating band of isosceles triangles and rectangles. Well … sod that. In real life, a cupola is sheer poetry!
“Burn old logs. Drink old wine. Read old books. Keep old friends.” — El Sabio Also, travel and visit old towns and listen to the classics! — Me