Author: Irina
― Kahlil Gibran
“My heart born naked
was swaddled in lullabies.
Later alone it wore
poems for clothes.
Like a shirt
I carried on my back
the poetry I had read.
So I lived for half a century
until wordlessly we met.
From my shirt on the back of the chair
I learn tonight
how many years
of learning by heart
I waited for you.”
― John Berger, And Our Faces, My Heart, Brief as Photos
Rerun
“If I could live again my life,
In the next – I’ll try,
– to make more mistakes,
I won’t try to be so perfect,
I’ll be more relaxed…
I’ll take fewer things seriously..
I’ll take more risks,
I’ll take more trips,
I’ll watch more sunsets,
I’ll climb more mountains,
I’ll swim more rivers,
I’ll go to more places I’ve never been
I’ll eat more ice …I’ll have more real problems and less imaginary ones
If I could live again – I will travel light
If I could live again – I’ll try to work bare feet at the beginning of spring till the end of autumn,
I’ll watch more sunrises …If I have the life to live”
― Jorge Luis Borges
“It turned out this man worked for the Dalai Lama. And she said gently-that they believe when a lot of things start going wrong all at once, it is to protect something big and lovely that is trying to get itself born-and that this something needs for you to be distracted so that it can be born as perfectly as possible.”
― Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith
“The struggle to emerge out of the past, clean of memories; the inadequacy of our hearts to cut life into separate and final portions; the pain of this constant ambivalence and interrelation of emotions; the hunger for frontiers against which we might learn as upon closed doors before we proceed forward; the struggle against diffusion, new beginnings, against finality in acts without finality or end, in our cursedly repercussive being..”
― Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934
“Once you experience enormity, it lingers everywhere you look, and wants to be every word you say.”
― David Levithan, Every Day
“Miracles occur,
If you dare to call those spasmodic
Tricks of radiance miracles. The wait’s
begun again,
The long wait for the angel,
For that rare, random descent.”
― Sylvia Plath