No Man is an Island: Stories of Friendship and Bonding
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Read between October 31 - November 11, 2022
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People who have led humble but meaningful lives deserve to be remembered as much as the rich and the famous.
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But the window was more fun than anything else. It gave us the power of detachment: we were deeply interested in the life around us, but we were not involved in it.
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He is too old for death; he can only sleep; he can only fall gently, like an old, crumpled brown leaf.
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And the last puff of the day-wind brought from the unseen villages, the scent of damp wood-smoke, hot cakes, dripping undergrowth, and rotting pine cones. That is the true smell of the Himalayas, and if once it creeps into the blood of a man, that man will at the last, forgetting all else, return to the hills to die. —Rudyard Kipling
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Books were there, of course, providing another and better form of escape, but books had to be read in the home,
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We must move on, of course. There’s no point in hankering after distant pleasures and lost picture palaces. But there’s no harm in indulging in a little nostalgia. What is nostalgia, after all, but an attempt to preserve that which was good in the past?
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Life isn’t a bed of roses, not for any of us, and I have never had the comforts or luxuries that wealth can provide. But here I am, doing my own thing, in my own time and my own way. What more can I ask of life?
All is Life Whether by accident or design, We are here. Let’s make the most of it, my friend. Make happiness our pursuit, Spread a little sunshine here and there. Enjoy the flowers, the breeze, Rivers, sea and sky, Mountains and tall waving trees. Greet the children passing by, Talk to the old folk. Be kind, my friend. Hold on, in times of pain and strife: Until death comes, all is life.