Richard johnson Art Music: STAMATIS SPANOUDAKIS - St. John's Tear
Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall you find her unless she herself be your way and your guide? And how shall you speak of her except she be the weaver of your speech?
The aggrieved and the injured say, "Beauty is kind and gentle. Like a young mother half-shy of her own glory she walks among us." And the passionate say, "Nay, beauty is a thing of might and dread. Like the tempest she shakes the earth beneath us and the sky above us." The tired and the weary say, "Beauty is of soft whisperings. She speaks in our spirit. Her voice yields to our silences like a faint light that quivers in fear of the shadow." But the restless say, "We have heard her shouting among the mountains, And with her cries came the sound of hoofs, and the beating of wings and the roaring of lions." At night the watchmen of the city say, "Beauty shall rise with the dawn from the east." And at noontide the toilers and the wayfarers say, "We have seen her leaning over the earth from the windows of the sunset." In winter say the snow-bound, "She shall come with the spring leaping upon the hills." And in the summer heat the reapers say, "We have seen her dancing with the autumn leaves, and we saw a drift of snow in her hair." All these things have you said of beauty, Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied, And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy. It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth, But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.
It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear, But rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears. It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw, But rather a garden for ever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever in flight.
People of Orphalese, beauty is life when life unveils her holy face. But you are life and you are the veil. Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror. But you are eternity and you are the mirror. Beauty is the radiance of being Nicholas Gordon
Beauty is the radiance of Being, Opening a seam of inner sky. Now we pause a moment beyond seeing, Not at the heart of things but quite nearby, In fields where all our deepest longings lie. Each of us becomes a thing of beauty As we are touched by love's unearthly grace, Not meaning to transcend our chosen duty, Demanding nothing more than we embrace, More lovely than our hands or eyes can trace. As ordinary days are filled with music, Rejoicing in the glory of a song, Kind hearts can dwell in beauty if they choose it, Unseen by those who anger and do wrong. So may love bring you beauty all life long. When You Are Old William Butler Yeats
Richard Johnson Art
WHEN you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face; And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled And paced upon the mountains overhead And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not. Ralph Waldo Emerson
Some people, no matter how old they get, never lose their beauty - they merely move it from their faces into their hearts. Martin Buxbaum
If our spirituality, no matter how disciplined, lofty and inspiring, is making us less warmly human, more detached, suspicious of our human 'feelings, emotions, and passions, then something has gone seriously wrong. Flora Slosson Wuellner
life never calms down long enough for us to wait until tomorrow to start living the lives we deserve. Live is always movement, always change, always unforeseen circumstances. There will always be something to grab your attention...Let's just acknowledge that as far as real life is concerned, we are only one step away from dealing with dysfunction. ...Procrastination has robbed us of too many opportunities. Sarah Ban Breathnach
Not only in grass fields with green leaf and running brook did this constant desire find renewal. More deeply still with living human beauty; the perfection of form, the simple fact of forms, ravished and always will ravish me away. In this lies the outcome and end of all the loveliness of sunshine and green leaf, of flowers, pure water and sweet air. This is embodiment and highest expression; the scattered, uncertain, and designless loveliness of tree and sunshine brought to shape. Through this beauty I prayed deepest and longest, and down to this hour. The shape the divine idea of that shape the swelling muscle or the dreamy limb, strong sinew or curve of bust, Aphrodite or Hercules, it is the same. That I may have the soul-life, the soul-nature, let the divine beauty bring to me divine soul. Richard Jefferies, The Story of My Heart
Blessed are those who can laugh at themselves; they will have no end of fun.
Blessed are those who can tell a mountain from a molehill;they will be saved a lot of bother.
Blessed are those who know how to relax without looking for excuses; they are on their way to becoming wise.
Blessed are those who are sane enough not to take themselves too seriously; they will be valued most by those about them.
Happy are you if you can take small things seriously and face serious things calmly; you will go far in life.
Happy are you if you can appreciate a smile and forget a frown; you will walk on the sunny side of the street.
Happy are you if you can be kind in understanding the attitudes of others even when the signs are unfavourable; you may be taken for a fool, but this is the price of charity.
Blessed are those who think before acting and pray before thinking; they will avoid many blunders.
Happy are you if you know how to hold your tongue and smile,even when people interrupt and contradict you or tread on your toes; the Gospel has begun to seep into your heart.
Above all, blessed are you who recognise the Lord in all whom you meet;the light of truth shines in your life for you have found true wisdom.
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,love letters
They never fail who die In a great cause: the block may soak their gore: Their heads may sodden in the sun; their limbs Be strung to city gates and castle walls— But still their Spirit walks abroad. Though years Elapse, and others share as dark a doom, They but augment the deep and sweeping thoughts Which overpower all others, and conduct The world at last to Freedom. LORD BYRON, Marino Faliero
Man, the more he gains freedom in the sense of emerging from the original oneness with man and nature and the more he becomes an "individual," has no choice but to unite himself with the world in the spontaneity of love and productive work or else to seek a kind of security by such ties with the world as destroy his freedom and the integrity of his individual self. ERICH FROMM, Escape from Freedom
Reason tells us that money will not buy happiness; passion says it will. Reason tells us virtue is its own reward; passion demands more. Reason tells us passion will be our undoing; passion replies that reason is cold and dead. Both seem to speak truth, so we listen to both, and remain neurotic.” Mignon McLaughlin – The Neurotic’s Notebook
His disciples recall that Confucius did not talk about extraordinary things, feats of strength, disorder, or spiritual beings. When Tsze-lu asked about serving the spirits of the dead Confucius responded, “While you are not able to serve men, how can you serve their spirits?” Tsze-lu went on, “May I ask about death?” He received the answer, “While you do not know life, how can you know about death?” Confucius added, “The study of strange doctrines is injurious indeed!”
Tsze-chang asked Confucius the source of perfect virtue. Confucius said, “To be able to practice five things everywhere under heaven constitutes perfect virtue: gravity, generosity of soul, sincerity, earnestness, and kindness. If you are grave, you will not be treated with disrespect. If you are generous, you will win all. If you are sincere, people will repose trust in you. If you are earnest, you will accomplish much. If you are kind, this will enable you to employ the services of others. The firm, the enduring, the simple, and the modest are near to virtue.
In some way, however small and secret, each of us is a little mad. Everyone is lonely at the bottom and cries to be understood. But we can never entirely understand someone else. Each of us remains part stranger, even to those who love us. It is the weak who are cruel; Gentleness is expected only from the strong. Those who do not know fear are not really brave, For courage is the capacity to confront what can be imagined.
You can understand people better if you look at them, -- No matter how old or impressive they may be -- As if they are children. For most of us never mature, we simply grow taller.
Happiness comes only when we push our brains and hearts to the farthest reaches of which we are capable. The purpose of life is to matter, to count, to stand for something. To have it make some difference that we have lived at all. Leo Rosten
To touch the glove upon her tender hand, To watch the jewel sparkle in her ring, Lifted my heart into a sudden song As when the wild birds sing.
To touch her shadow on the sunny grass, To break her pathway through the darkened wood, Filled all my life with trembling and tears And silence where I stood.
I watch the shadows gather round my heart, I live to know that she is gone – Gone gone for ever, like the tender dove That left the Ark alone.
Be thankful that you don't already have everything you desire. If you did, what would there be to look forward to? Be thankful when you don't know something, for it gives you the opportunity to learn.
Be thankful for the difficult times. During those times you grow. Be thankful for your limitations, because they give you opportunities for improvement. Be thankful for each new challenge, because it will build your strength and character.
Be thankful for your mistakes. They will teach you valuable lessons. Be thankful when you're tired and weary, because it means you've made a difference.
It's easy to be thankful for the good things. A life of rich fulfillment comes to those who are also thankful for the setbacks. Gratitude can turn a negative into a positive. Find a way to be thankful for your troubles, and they can become your blessings.
Si tu ne trouves pas le bonheur, C'est peut-être que tu le cherches ailleurs, Ailleurs que dans tes souliers... Ailleurs que dans ton foyer.
Selon toi, les autres sont plus heureux, Mais toi, tu ne vis pas chez eux..., Tu oublies que chacun a ses tracas, Tu n'aimeras sûrement pas mieux son cas.
Comment peux-tu aimer la vie, Si ton coeur est plein d'envies ? Si tu ne t'aimes pas, Si tu ne t'acceptes pas ? Le plus grand obstacle au bonheur, sans doute, C'est de rêver d'un bonheur trop grand.
Sachons cueillir le bonheur au compte-gouttes, Ce sont les plus petites gouttes qui font les océans. Ne cherchons pas le bonheur dans nos souvenirs, Ne le cherchons pas non plus dans l'avenir. Cherchons le bonheur dans le présent, C'est là et là seulement qu'il nous attend. Le bonheur ce n'est pas un objet Que l'on peut trouver quelque part hors de nous. Le bonheur ce n'est qu'un projet Qui part de nous et se réalise en nous.
Il n'existe pas de marchands de bonheur... Il n'existe pas de machine à bonheur... Il existe des gens qui croient au bonheur. Ce sont des gens qui font eux-mêmes leur bonheur. Si dans votre miroir votre figure vous déplaît, A quoi ça sert de briser le miroir...? Ce n'est pas lui qu'il faut casser ! C'est vous qu'il faut changer.
Romance, who loves to nod and sing With drowsy head and folded wing Among the green leaves as they shake Far down within some shadowy lake, To me a painted paroquet Hath been—most familiar bird— Taught me my alphabet to say, To lisp my very earliest word While in the wild wood I did lie, A child—with a most knowing eye.
Of late, eternal condor years So shake the very Heaven on high With tumult as they thunder by, I have no time for idle cares Through gazing on the unquiet sky; And when an hour with calmer wings Its down upon my spirit flings, That little time with lyre and rhyme To while away—forbidden things— My heart would feel to be a crime Unless it trembled with the strings.
Man goes into the noisy crowd to drown his own clamour of silence.
Man is immortal; therefore he must die endlessly. For life is a creative idea; it can only find itself in changing forms.
Man's abiding happiness is not in getting anything but in giving himself up to what is greater than himself, to ideas which are larger than his individual life, the idea of his country, of humanity, of God. Tagore
Life is given to us, we earn it by giving it. Let the dead have the immortality of fame, but the living the immortality of love.
Life's errors cry for the merciful beauty that can modulate their isolation into a harmony with the whole.
Life, like a child, laughs, shaking its rattle of death as it runs. Tagore
Behold the Sea, The opaline, the plentiful and strong, Yet beautiful as is the rose in June, Fresh as the trickling rainbow of July; Sea full of food, the nourisher of kinds, Purger of earth, and medicine of men; Creating a sweet climate by my breath, Washing out harms and griefs from memory, And, in my mathematic ebb and flow, Giving a hint of that which changes not. Ralph Waldo Emerson, Sea Shore
When it is peace, then we may view again With new-won eyes each other's truer form And wonder. Grown more loving-kind and warm We'll grasp firm hands and laugh at the old pain When it is peace. But until peace, the storm The darkness and the thunder and the rain. Charles Hamilton Sorley
O Peace! thou source and soul of social life; Beneath whose calm inspiring influence, Science his views enlarges, Art refines, And swelling Commerce opens all her ports; Blessed be the man divine, who gives us thee! James Thomson
Souvent passe un regard, un regard soutenu. Tes yeux sur les yeux de l'autre deviner la signification de leur éclat lire le futur immédiat plus loin que la pupille vouloir dire beaucoup de choses , mais retenir son envie.
Serrer le lèvres permettre que circulent les idées sans qu'elles sortent à l'extérieur. augmenter l'espace entre les questions et les réponses. laisser les muscles se dessiner sur le visage. attendre un signe. Maintenir la respiration , penser que l'autre aussi pense. analyser , espérer. L'économie de paroles:une vertu qui n'est pas l'apanage des religieuses cloîtrées. Un jeu que pratiquent ceux qui savent faire les fous ceux qui comprennent que toutes les questions méritent une réponse
Que la solution n'est pas toujours d'ouvrir la bouche pourquoi tout dire? Pourquoi ne pas conserver en soi un peu de ce que l’on pense? Pourquoi ne pas convertir en secret quelques unes des idées qui font leur apparition sans préavis, au moins avec l’illusion que le temps la mûrisse et la transforme en idée plus durable? Pourquoi ne pas comprendre, au moins une fois, que la parole n’est pas aussi rapide que la pensée, et que tout ce que l’on trouve dans l’esprit ne peut se convertir en paroles? Comprendre que l’on peut aussi parler par gestes.
Que le silence….parfois devient un cri. On garde le silence dans les hôpitaux, les veillées funèbres, les actes solennels… On garde le silence par pudeur , par respect, par douleur… On garde le silence dans la douleur lorsque celle-ci est incapable de se transformer en pleurs. Apprendre à se taire sans autre motif que sa propre volonté. Se taire pour écouter. Se taire pour regarder. Se taire pour apprendre. Se taire pour se taire. Se taire pour convertir le silence en complice. Se taire pour savoir si un écho existe.
Se taire, parce que tout ce qui ne nous convient pas d’écouter, nous le disons à l’oreille, dans l’intimité d’une confession, avec le volume d’un cri, avec l’accent des grandes révélations. Se taire pour comprendre que le silence est le masque des sons les plus beaux. Manier le silence est plus difficile que de manier la parole
It is certain that there is no other passion which does produce such contrary effects in so great a degree. But this may be said for love, that if you strike it out of the soul, life would be insipid, and our being but half animated. Joseph Addison
The consciousness of being loved softens the keenest pang even at the moment of parting; yea, even the eternal farewell is robbed of half of its bitterness when uttered in accents that breathe love to the last sigh. Joseph Addison
Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted. If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, returning Back to their springs, like the rain, still fill them full of refreshment; That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
True gentleness is founded on a sense of what we owe to Him who made us, and to the common nature which we all share. It arises from reflection on our own failings and wants, and from just views of the condition and the duty of man. It is native feeling heightened and improved by principle. Hugh Blair
Gentleness corrects whatever is offensive in our manners. Hugh Blair
Gentleness, which belongs to virtue, is to be carefully distinguished from the mean spirit of cowards and the fawning assent of sycophants. Hugh Blair
Excerpt from "The meeting" by John Greenleaf whittier
Music:
"Dream not, O friend, because I seek This quiet shelter twice a week, I better deem its pine-laid floor Than breezy hill or sea-sung shore; But nature is not solitude: She crowds us with her thronging wood; Her many hands reach out to us, Her many tongues are garrulous; Perpetual riddles of surprise She offers to our ears and eyes; She will not leave our senses still, But drags them captive at her will; And making earth too great for heaven, She hides the Giver in the given. "And so I find it well to come For deeper rest to this still room, For here the habit of the soul Feels less the outer world's control; The strength of mutual purpose pleads More earnestly our common needs; And from the silence multiplied By these still forms on either side, The world that time and sense have known Falls off and leaves us God alone. "Yet rarely through the charmed repose Unmixed the stream of motive flows, A flavor of its many springs, The tints of earth and sky it brings; In the still waters needs must be Some shade of human sympathy; And here, in its accustomed place, I look on memory's dearest face; The blind by-sitter guesseth not What shadow haunts that vacant spot; No eyes save mine alone can see The love wherewith it welcomes me! And still, with those alone my kin, In doubt and weakness, want and sin, I bow my head, my heart I bare, As when that face was living there, And strive (too oft, alas! in vain) The peace of simple trust to gain, Fold fancy's restless wings, and lay The idols of my heart away. We Are Made One with What We Touch and See Oscar Wilde
Emile Vernon art
We are resolved into the supreme air, We are made one with what we touch and see, With our heart's blood each crimson sun is fair, With our young lives each springimpassioned tree Flames into green, the wildest beasts that range The moor our kinsmen are, all life is one, and all is change.
With beat of systole and of diastole One grand great life throbs through earth's giant heart, And mighty waves of single Being roll From nerveless germ to man, for we are part Of every rock and bird and beast and hill, One with the things that prey on us, and one with what we kill One sacrament are consecrate, the earth Not we alone hath passions hymeneal, The yellow buttercups that shake for mirth At daybreak know a pleasure not less real Than we do, when in some freshblossoming wood We draw the spring into our hearts, and feel that life is good
Is the light vanished from our golden sun, Or is this daedalfashioned earth less fair, That we are nature's heritors, and one With every pulse of life that beats the air? Rather new suns across the sky shall pass, New splendour come unto the flower, new glory to the grass. And we two lovers shall not sit afar, Critics of nature, but the joyous sea Shall be our raiment, and the bearded star Shoot arrows at our pleasure! We shall be Part of the mighty universal whole, And through all Aeons mix and mingle with the Kosmic Soul!.
We shall be notes in that great Symphony Whose cadence circles through the rhythmic spheres, And all the live World's throbbing heart shall be One with our heart, the stealthy creeping years Have lost their terrors now, we shall not die, The Universe itself shall be our Immortality!. Nature and Man
by Edith Matilda Thomas
Oh, the glance of the dew! Oh, the flame of the rose springing forth of the thorn! Oh, the song of the arrow-marked finch singing love in the front of the morn! Who will not speak to them all of the rapture they wake in the children of men? Who will so lovingly speak, they will heed, and answer again? The glance of the dew but repeateth the liquid glance of the sky, And the flame of the rose is not brighter, in token, as man passes by, And the song of the finch, though his little heart with ecstasy break, From the answering rapture of man no quickening impulse shall take. O drops of the dew! O pride of the thorn! O singing bird! Is there never a mutual tongue, is there never a common word, Wherein to give thanks, wherein to give praise, from the hearts ye have filled? With the pure distilment of joy which your cup, over-brimming, has spilled? If but one moment, in all the swift season giddy with change, We that are God's one creation, yet strangers, might be less strange! But this is the pain of the pleasure--the bitter-sweet which man drains: Unconscious-glad Nature unconscious of man forever remains!
I Know Not Why by Morris Rosenfeld
I lift mine eyes against the sky, The clouds are weeping, so am I; I lift mine eyes again on high, The sun is smiling, so am I. Why do I smile? Why do I weep? I do not know; it lies too deep. I hear the winds of autumn sigh, They break my heart, they make me cry; I hear the birds of lovely spring, My hopes revive, I help them sing. Why do I sing? Why do I cry? It lies so deep, I know not why.
