Category: poetry
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chère douce Paris, je reviendrai un jour We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. What we call the beginning is often the end And to make and end is to make a…
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Have compassion for everyone you meet, even if they don’t want it. What seems conceit, bad manners, or cynicism is always a sign of things no ears have heard, no eyes have seen. You do not know what wars are going on down there where the spirit meets the bone. -Miller Williams, Compassion
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I have come to drag you out of yourself and take you into my heart. I have come to bring out the beauty you never knew you had and lift you like a prayer to the sky. If no one recognises you, i do because you are my life and soul. Don’t run away,…
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One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice— though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles. ‘Mend my life!’ each voice cried. But you didn’t stop. You knew what you had to…
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I have heard it all my life, A voice calling a name I recognised as my own. Sometimes it comes as a soft-bellied whisper. Sometimes it holds an edge of urgency. But always it says: Wake up, my love. You are walking asleep. Theres no safety in that! Remember what you are, and let this knowing…
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The Invitation It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love for your dream for the adventure of being alive. It doesn’t interest me what…
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rustic apple and sour cherry pie.
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I lie abstracted and hear beautiful tales of things and the reasons of things,They are so beautiful I nudge myself to listen. I cannot say to any person what I hear… I cannot say it to myself… It is very wonderful. -Walt Whitman, leaves of grass Rustic apple and sour cherry pie for…
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takings from, Whitman’s Leaves of Grass.
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I exist as I am, that is enough If no other in the world be aware, I sit content And if each and all be aware I sit content. Whoever degrades another degrades me… and whatever is done or said, returns at last to me, And whatever I do or say I also…
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dear girls.