“How much better is silence; the coffee cup, the table. How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake. Let me sit here for ever with bare things, this coffee cup, this knife, this fork, things in themselves, myself being myself.”
― The Waves
― The Waves
“عندما تتكاثر المصائب يمحو بعضها بعضاً ..
وتحل بك سعادة جنونية غريبة المذاق ..
وتستطيع أن تضحك من قلب لم يعد يعرف الخوف !”
―
وتحل بك سعادة جنونية غريبة المذاق ..
وتستطيع أن تضحك من قلب لم يعد يعرف الخوف !”
―
“لم يعد عندي رفيق.. رغم أنّ البلدة أكتظت بآلاف الرفاق ! ولذا شكلت من نفسي حزباً. ثُم إنّي - مثل كلِّ الناس - أعلنت على الحزب انشقاقي !”
―
―
“The Fourth Sign of The Zodiac (Part 3) by Mary Oliver
I know, you never intended to be in this world.
But you’re in it all the same.
So why not get started immediately.
I mean, belonging to it.
There is so much to admire, to weep over.
And to write music or poems about.
Bless the feet that take you to and fro.
Bless the eyes and the listening ears.
Bless the tongue, the marvel of taste.
Bless touching.
You could live a hundred years, it’s happened.
Or not.
I am speaking from the fortunate platform
of many years,
none of which, I think, I ever wasted.
Do you need a prod?
Do you need a little darkness to get you going?
Let me be as urgent as a knife, then,
and remind you of Keats,
so single of purpose and thinking, for a while,
he had a lifetime.
Mary oliver”
―
I know, you never intended to be in this world.
But you’re in it all the same.
So why not get started immediately.
I mean, belonging to it.
There is so much to admire, to weep over.
And to write music or poems about.
Bless the feet that take you to and fro.
Bless the eyes and the listening ears.
Bless the tongue, the marvel of taste.
Bless touching.
You could live a hundred years, it’s happened.
Or not.
I am speaking from the fortunate platform
of many years,
none of which, I think, I ever wasted.
Do you need a prod?
Do you need a little darkness to get you going?
Let me be as urgent as a knife, then,
and remind you of Keats,
so single of purpose and thinking, for a while,
he had a lifetime.
Mary oliver”
―
m.’s 2025 Year in Books
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