Attention, minuit va bientôt sonner Le compte à rebours va être amorcé, L’heure est au bilan, peut-être aux regrets, On va enterrer l’année écoulée. Les résolutions : toute une tradition ! Combien d’entre nous vraiment les tiendrons ? J’ai le cœur serré, chargé d’émotions, Le décompte est fait, nous nous embrassons. 2011 est morte, ne regrettons rien, Quelle année c’était ! ça je m’en souviens ! Que de bons souvenirs seul ou en commun, Ceux à oublier sont déjà bien loin. Adieu belle année, je ne t’oublierai pas, Tout ce qui s’est passé est inscrit en moi. J’emporte avec moi les rires et les joies, J’enterre avec toi les peurs, les tracas. 2012 écris nous une belle histoire, Une de celles dont on rêve silencieux le soir. N’écoute pas la dictée de ton passé noir, Le monde peut être beau, voudrais-tu me croire? Je souhaite bien sûr amour et joie à chacun, Une vie parsemée de beaux lendemains Et pour ceux qui semblent ne plus croire en rien, Un murmure d’espoir venu du lointain.
And ye, who have met with Adversity's blast, And been bow'd to the earth by its fury; To whom the Twelve Months, that have recently pass'd Were as harsh as a prejudiced jury - Still, fill to the Future! and join in our chime, The regrets of remembrance to cozen, And having obtained a New Trial of Time, Shout in hopes of a kindlier dozen. Thomas Hood
A happy New Year! Grant that I May bring no tear to any eye When this New Year in time shall end Let it be said I've played the friend, Have lived and loved and labored here, And made of it a happy year. Edgar Guest That's not been said a thousand times? The new years come, the old years go, We know we dream, we dream we know. We rise up laughing with the light, We lie down weeping with the night. We hug the world until it stings, We curse it then and sigh for wings. We live, we love, we woo, we wed, We wreathe our prides, we sheet our dead. We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear, And that's the burden of a year." Ella Wheeler Wilcox If it didn’t bring you joy just leave it behind Let’s ring in the new year with good things in mind
Let every bad memory that brought heartache and pain And let’s turn a new leaf with the smell of new rain
Let’s forget past mistakes making amends for this year Sending you these greetings to bring you hope and cheer Happy New Year! Author Unknown
For last year's words belong to last year's language And next year's words await another voice. And to make an end is to make a beginning. T.S. Eliot, "Little Gidding" The object of a New Year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul and a new nose; new feet, a new backbone, new ears, and new eyes. Unless a particular man made New Year resolutions, he would make no resolutions. Unless a man starts afresh about things, he will certainly do nothing effective. G.K. Chesterton NEW YEAR To leave the old with a burst of song; To recall the right and forgive the wrong; To forget the things that bind you fast To the vain regrets of the year that’s past; To have the strength to let go your hold Of the not worth while of the days grown old; To dare go forth with a purpose true, To the unknown task of the year that’s new; To help your brother along the road, To do his work and lift his load; To add your gift to the world’s good cheer, Is to have and to give a Happy New Year. Author Unknown
People must have renounced, it seems to me, all natural intelligence to dare to advance that animals are but animated machines…. It appears to me, besides, that [such people] can never have observed with attention the character of animals, not to have distinguished among them the different voices of need, of suffering, of joy, of pain, of love, of anger, and of all their affections. It would be very strange that they should express so well what they could not feel. Voltaire, Traité sur la tolerance
How hard it is to escape from places. However carefully one goes they hold you – you leave little bits of yourself fluttering on the fences – like rags and shreds of your very life. Katherine Mansfield
I've learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow. I've learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights.
I've learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you'll miss them when they're gone from your life. I've learned that making a "living" is not the same thing as making a "life." I've learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back.
I've learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. I've learned that even when I have pains, I don't have to be one. I've learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. I've learned that I still have a lot to learn. I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel. Maya Angelou
Do not depend on the hope of results. You may have to face the fact that your work will be apparently worthless and even achieve no result at all, if not perhaps results opposite to what you expect. As you get used to this idea, you start more and more to concentrate not on the results, but on the value,the rightness, the truth of the work itself. You gradually struggle less and less for an idea and more and more for specific people. In the end, it is the reality of personal relationship that saves everything. Thomas Merton
We can travel a long way and do many things, but our deepest happiness is not born from accumulating new experiences. it is born from letting go of what is unnecessary, and knowing ourselves to be always at home. Sharon Salzberg
If you're still hanging onto a dead dream of yesterday, laying flowers on its grave by the hour, you cannot be planting the seeds for a new dream to grow today. Joyce Chapman
Keep me away from the wisdom which does not cry, the philosophy which does not laugh, and the greatness which does not bow before children. Kahlil Gibran
LIGHTEST of dancers, with no thought Thy glimmering feet beat on my heart, Gayest of singers, with no care Waking to beauty the still air, More than the labours of our art, More than our wisdom can impart, Thine idle ecstasy hath taught.
Lost long in solemn ponderings, With the blind shepherd mind for guide, The uncreated joy in you Hath lifted up my heart unto The morning stars in their first pride, And the angelic joys that glide High upon heaven-uplifted wings.
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love. Washington Irving
Softly the evening came. The sun from the western horizon Like a magician extended his golden want o'er the landscape; Trinkling vapors arose; and sky and water and forest Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled together. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
One night I asked Love: “Tell me truly, who are you?” It said: “I am life eternal, I multiply the lovely life.” I said: “O you who are beyond each place, where is your home?” It said: “I am together with the heart’s fire and beside the wet eye, I am a dyer; due to me every cheek turns saffron-colored. I am a swift-footed messenger, and the lover my lean steed. I am the crimson of the tulip, the merchandise’s worth, I am the sweetness of lament, the unveiler of all that is veiled . . .”
May your goodness always increase And your smiling face never cease In our head the thought of your love Every day is on the increase.
Every cedar and every spruce From your height may you hear their pleas The eye not intrigued by thee Its tear drops a bloody disease.
Your eye for mesmerizing hearts Is a magician and master-tease. Wherever a heart is longing for thee Impatiently shears its own fleece.
The beauty of all the lovers Beside your swan is ugly geese. The heart that is out of love’s lease From the circle of union release. Hafiz’s soul, your ruby lips ease Away from base lips, if you please.
The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life." Richard Bach
Family quarrels have a total bitterness unmatched by others. Yet it sometimes happens that they also have a kind of tang, a pleasantness beneath the unpleasantness, based on the tacit understanding that this is not for keeps; that any limb you climb out on will still be there later for you to climb back. Mignon McLaughlin
He who climbs upon the highest mountains laughs at all tragedies, real or imaginary.
In the mountains, the shortest way is from peak to peak: but for that you must have long legs.
On the mountains of truth you can never climb in vain: either you will reach a point higher up today, or you will be training your powers so that you will be able to climb higher tomorrow. Friedrich Nietzsche
Hope by FRIEDRICH SCHILLER The original poem in german(Die Hoffnung)
Man ever talks, and Man ever dreams Of better days that are yet to be, After glittering goal, that distant gleams, Running and racing untiringly. The worldly may grow old and young as it will, But the Hope of man is Improvement still.
Hope bears him into life in her arms, She flutters around the boy's young bloom, The soul of youth with her magic warms, Nor rests with age in the silent tomb; For ends man his weary course at the grave, There plants he Hope o'er his ashes to wave.
Here is the poem in its german original Die Hoffnung von Friedrich Schiller
Es reden und träumen die Menschen viel Von besseren künftigen Tagen, Nach einem glücklichen gold'nen Ziel Sieht man sie rennen und jagen, Die Welt wird alt und wieder jung, Doch der Mensch hofft immer Verbesserung.
Die Hoffnung führt ihn in's Leben ein, Sie umflattert den fröhlichen Knaben, Den Jüngling bezaubert ihr Geisterschein, Sie wird mit dem Greis nicht begraben; Denn beschließt er im Grabe den müden Lauf, Noch am Grabe pflanzt er die Hoffnung auf.
Es ist kein leerer schmeichelnder Wahn, Erzeugt im Gehirne des Toren, Im Herzen kündet es laut sich an: Zu was Besserem sind wir geboren! Und was die innere Stimme spricht, Das täuscht die hoffende Seele nicht.
Though beauty is, with the most apt similitude, I had almost said with the most literal truth, called a flower that fades and dies almost in the very moment of its maturity; yet there is, methinks, a kind of beauty which lives even to old age; a beauty that is not in the features, but, if I may be allowed the expression, shines through them. As it is not merely corporeal it is not the object of mere sense, nor is it to be discovered but by persons of true taste and refined sentiment. FULKE GREVILLE, Maxims, Characters, and Reflections
Thunder rumbles in the mountain passes And lightning rattles the eaves of our houses. Flood waters await us in our avenues.
Snow falls upon snow, falls upon snow to avalanche Over unprotected villages. The sky slips low and grey and threatening. We question ourselves. What have we done to so affront nature? We worry God. Are you there? Are you there really? Does the covenant you made with us still hold?
Into this climate of fear and apprehension, Christmas enters, Streaming lights of joy, ringing bells of hope And singing carols of forgiveness high up in the bright air. The world is encouraged to come away from rancor, Come the way of friendship. It is the Glad Season. Thunder ebbs to silence and lightning sleeps quietly in the corner. Flood waters recede into memory. Snow becomes a yielding cushion to aid us As we make our way to higher ground.
Hope is born again in the faces of children It rides on the shoulders of our aged as they walk into their sunsets. Hope spreads around the earth. Brightening all things, Even hate which crouches breeding in dark corridors.
In our joy, we think we hear a whisper. At first it is too soft. Then only half heard. We listen carefully as it gathers strength. We hear a sweetness. The word is Peace. It is loud now. It is louder. Louder than the explosion of bombs.
We tremble at the sound. We are thrilled by its presence. It is what we have hungered for. Not just the absence of war. But, true Peace. A harmony of spirit, a comfort of courtesies. Security for our beloveds and their beloveds. We clap hands and welcome the Peace of Christmas. We beckon this good season to wait a while with us. We, Baptist and Buddhist, Methodist and Muslim, say come. Peace. Come and fill us and our world with your majesty. We, the Jew and the Jainist, the Catholic and the Confucian, implore you to stay awhile with us so we may learn by your shimmering light how to look beyond complexion and see community. It is Christmas time, a halting of hate time. On this platform of peace, we can create a language to translate ourselves to ourselves and to each other.
At this Holy Instant, we celebrate the Birth of Jesus Christ Into the great religions of the world. We jubilate the precious advent of trust. We shout with glorious tongues the coming of hope. All the earth’s tribes loosen their voices to celebrate the promise of Peace.
We, Angels and Mortals, Believers and Nonbelievers, Look heavenward and speak the word aloud. Peace. We look at our world and speak the word aloud. Peace. We look at each other, then into ourselves, And we say without shyness or apology or hesitation:
Peace, My Brother. Peace, My Sister. Peace, My Soul.
All the things you treasure most will be the hardest won I will watch you struggle long before the answers come But I won’t make it harder, I’ll be there to cheer you on I’ll shine the light that guides you down the road you’re walking on Dar Williams
So will I build my altar in the fields, And the blue sky my fretted dome shall be, And the sweet fragrance that the wild flower yields Shall be the incense I will yield to thee." Samuel Taylor Coleridge
The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity . . . and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself. William Blake
You listen to so much more than I can say. You hear consciousness. You go with me where the words I say can’t carry you.
I want to be just like a blade of grass, that moves as the air moves it -to talk just according to the impulse of the moment. And I do.
His love is as restful as Nature itself. He has no standard for you to conform to, no choice about you, but is simply with your reality, just as Nature is. You are real, so is he: the two realities love each other - voila ! Excerpt from Khalil Gibran'S love letters
Did I say that the humans might be filed in categories? Well, and if I did, let me qualify -- not all humans. You elude me. I cannot place you, cannot grasp you. I may boast that of nine out of ten, under given circumstances, I can forecast their action; that of nine out of ten, by their word or action, I may feel the pulse of their hearts.
But of the tenth I despair. It is beyond me. You are that tenth. Were ever two souls, with dumb lips, more incongruously matched! We may feel in common -- surely, we oftimes do -- and when we do not feel in common, yet do we understand; and yet we have no common tongue.
Spoken words do not come to us. We are unintelligible. God must laugh at the mummery. The one gleam of sanity through it all is that we are both large temperamentally, large enough to often understand. True, we often understand but in vague glimmering ways, by dim perceptions, like ghosts, which, while we doubt, haunt us with their truth.
And still, I, for one, dare not believe; for you are that tenth which I may not forecast. Am I unintelligible now? I do not know. I imagine so. I cannot find the common tongue. Large temperamentally -- that is it. It is the one thing that brings us at all in touch. We have, flashed through us, you and I, each a bit of universal, and so we draw together. And yet we are so different.
I smile at you when you grow enthusiastic? It is a forgivable smile -- nay, almost an envious smile. I have lived twenty-five years of repression. I learned not to be enthusiastic. It is a hard lesson to forget. I begin to forget, but it is so little. At the best, before I die, I cannot hope to forget all or most. I can exult, now that I am learning,in little things, in other things; but of my things, and secret things doubly mine, I cannot, I cannot. Do I make myself intelligible? Do you hear my voice? I fear not. There are poseurs. I am the most successful of them all.
