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He who seeks to approach his own buried past must conduct himself like a man digging.... He must not be afraid to return again and ...

Walter Benjamin

self-knowledge

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Samsung® Flex Duo™ Oven
www.samsung.com/oven-ranges Cook Two Different Meals In The Same Oven Using Its Smart Divider!

She turns and looks a moment in the glass,
Hardly aware of her departed lover; ...

T.S. Eliot

sex

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The father of a daughter is nothing but a high-class hostage. A father turns a stony face to his sons, berates them, shakes his an ...

Garrison Keillor

father-daughter relationships

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I learn to affirm
Truth's light at strange turns of the mind's road, ...

Denise Levertov

truth

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The twelve-thousand-day honeymoon
is over. ...

Anne Sexton

old age | death and the dead | aging

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The true gardener then brushes over the ground with slow and gentle hand, to liberate a space for breath round some favourite; but ...

Freya Stark

gardens and gardening

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This "charity-house," as the wrecker called it, this "Humane house," as some call it, that is, the one to which we first came, had ... neither window nor sliding shutter, nor clapboards, nor paint. As we have said, there was a rusty nail put through the staple. However, as we wished to get an idea of a Humane house, and we hoped that we should never have a better opportunity, we put our eyes, by turns, to a knot-hole in the door, and, after long looking, without seeing, into the dark,--not knowing how many shipwrecked men's bones we might see at last, looking with the eye of faith, knowing that, though to him that knocketh it may not always be opened, yet to him that looketh long enough through a knot-hole the inside shall be visible,--for we had had some practice at looking inward,--by steadily keeping our other ball covered from the light meanwhile, putting the outward world behind us, ocean and land, and the beach,--till the pupil became enlarged and collected the rays of light that were wandering in that dark (for the pupil shall be enlarged by looking; there was never so dark a night but a faithful and patient eye, however small, might at last prevail over it),--after all this, I say, things began to take shape to our vision,--if we may use this expression where there was nothing but emptiness,--and we obtained the long-wished-for insight. Though we thought at first that it was a hopeless case, after several minutes' steady exercise of the divine faculty, our prospects began steadily to brighten, and we were ready to exclaim with the blind bard of "Paradise Lost and Regained,"--
"Hail, holy Light! offspring of Heaven first-born,
Or of the Eternal coeternal beam
May I express thee unblamed?"
A little longer, and a chimney rushed red on our sight. In short, when our vision had grown familiar with the darkness, we discovered that there were some stones and some loose wads of wool on the floor, and an empty fireplace at the further end; but it was not supplied with matches, or straw, or hay, that we could see, nor "accommodated with a bench." Indeed, it was the wreck of all cosmical beauty there within.
Turning our backs on the outward world, we thus looked through the knot-hole into the Humane house, into the very bowels of mercy; and for bread we found a stone. It was literally a great cry (of sea-mews outside), and a little wool. However, we were glad to sit outside, under the lee of the Humane house, to escape the piercing wind; and there we thought how cold is charity! how inhumane humanity! This, then, is what charity hides! Virtues antique and far away, with ever a rusty nail over the latch; and very difficult to keep in repair, withal, it is so uncertain whether any will ever gain the beach near you. So we shivered round about, not being able to get into it, ever and anon looking through the knot-hole into that night without a star, until we concluded that it was not a humane house at all, but a seaside box, now shut up, belonging to some of the family of Night or Chaos, where they spent their summers by the sea, for the sake of the sea-breeze, and that it was not proper for us to be prying into their concerns.

Henry David Thoreau

humane houses | inspirational

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Roll over, Beethoven,
And tell Tchaikovsky the news.

Chuck Berry

rock 'n' roll

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The storm is over, the land hushes to rest:
The tyrannous wind, its strength fordone,
Is fallen back in the west

Robert Bridges

calm

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And we won't be back till its over over there.

George M. Cohan

World War I | Europe

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