Judith

“May had now set in, but up here among the hills, she was May by curtesy only; or if she was May, she would never be might. She was, indeed, only April with her showers and sunshine, her tearful, childish laughter, and again the frown, and the dispair irremediable. Nay, as if she still kept up a secret correspondence with her cousin March, banished for his rudeness, she would not very seldom shake from her skirts a snow storm, and oftener the dancing hail. Then out would come the sun behind her, and laugh, and say-- "I could not help THAT; but here I am all the same, coming to you as fast as I can!”
― George MacDonald, Sir Gibbie

“SHIELD
~uwe 24
At times an idea hits us with the terrific force of a high-flying jet re-entering our atmosphere. It takes hold of us and shakes us with the same sound force and itisveryoften just asstarding.Asoftpedaling thought comes to mind and we acknowledge it only briefly, but it comes back again and again, until we stop to think about it. It pays to listen. All good things do not come with mind-smashing sound effects. Some of the best of life comes on soft shoes and barely brushes us. If we are alert, we may savor it for a lifetime. If we are crusty and hard to deal with, a splendid idea may go right by us and light on someone more sensitive.
I have heard your words-they have entered one ear and shall not escape the other...
SHARITARISH
D`i`e 25
ust when we think nothing is working there is a glimmer of light. If we could believe in our hearts that what looks impossible can work out, we could bear more easily with hardships. Living is like theweather.”
― Joyce Sequichie Hifler, Cherokee Feast of Days: Daily Meditations (Cherokee Feast of Days

“Everything is like a wall.
Said a scholar to the troll.
Bang your head to go on through.
Then you'll see, there is no queue.”
― Will Advise, Nothing is here...

“It’s a disgusting mess we come through to be born, the sticky-wet of blood and afterbirth, mother wailing, child crying … the helpless soft spot at the top of its head pulsing, waiting to be kissed. Our parents and teachers say it’s a miracle, but it’s not. It’s going to happen no matter what, there’s no choice in the matter. To my mind, a miracle is something that could go one way or another. The fact that something happens, when by all rights it shouldn’t, is what makes us take notice, it’s what saints are made of, it takes the breath away. How a mother comes to love her child, her caring at all for this thing that’s made her heavy, lopsided and slow, this thing that made her wish she were dead … that’s the miracle.”
― Ami McKay, The Birth House