“It seems to me that almost everything is a waste of time… I can’t see the point in learning to solve useless problems, or subtracting turnips from turnips, or knowing where Ethiopia is or how to spell February.” And, since no one bothered to explain otherwise, he regarded the process of seeking knowledge as the greatest waste of time of all.
from The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster, 1961
flaws lend interest to perfect beauty
oh yes, it was a hot and stormy summer
of change and love and apprehension and excitement–
a hurricane of emotions,
lives tumbling forward
she was different then,
and he was different when
they were friends
the years roll on,
one in front of the other,
and i wonder
if you still smoke those short cigarettes
and close your eyes gently with the first hit of dark spanish tobacco,
if you paint at an open sea-facing window,
if you drink your coffee sweet and midnight black,
if you ever,
do you ever,
let yourself remember…
what if we looked at one another with peace
and with friendship
and with gratitude
and with empathy
and with kindness
what would the world look like then?
the smell of the barn
the rakes on the wall
the bees in the grass
and the dogs in the field
made for a good day
“There’s just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we’ve ever imagined…”
from The Hours by Michael Cunningham
when i take walks i think about what i’ll make for dinner and what i forgot to do this afternoon and why she made that off-handed comment and why do people insist that green grass is better than grass with wild clover and when did the clematis get so big and where did the egret go and why is the pup limping slightly and what time will i leave on thursday morning and what in the world will i make for dinner today…
everything is temporary
spanishwoods 