Quotes, Poems, & Sayings...

[Bèsame*]

[Genesis]

Love is the Water of Life

Everything other than love for the most beautiful God

though it be sugar- eating.

What is agony of the spirit?

To advance toward death without seizing

hold of the Water of Life.

- Rumi

[Genesis]

Love is reckless; not reason.

Reason seeks a profit.

Love comes on strong,

consuming herself, unabashed.



Yet, in the midst of suffering,

Love proceeds like a millstone,

hard surfaced and straightforward.



Having died of self-interest,

she risks everything and asks for nothing.

Love gambles away every gift God bestows.



Without cause God gave us Being;

without cause, give it back again...

- Rumi

[Genesis]

A lifetime without Love is of no account

Love is the Water of Life

Drink it down with heart and soul!

- Rumi

[Kätzchen]

[Genesis]

“Dance, when you're broken open.
Dance, if you've torn the bandage off.
Dance in the middle of the fighting.
Dance in your blood.
Dance when you're perfectly free...”

― Rumi

[Genesis]

‎Dancing is not just getting up painlessly, like a leaf blown on the wind;
dancing is when you tear your heart out and rise out of your body to hang suspended between the worlds.

- Rumi

[Genesis]

In your light I learn how to love.
In your beauty, how to make poems.
You dance inside my chest where no-one sees you,
but sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art...

-Rumi

[Genesis]

For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfil themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farmboy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.

Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.

A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.

A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers, I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that God is in me. I trust that my labor is holy. Out of this trust I live.

When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. Let God speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent. You are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home. But every step and every day lead you back again to the mother. Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.

A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one's suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.

So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.”

― Hermann Hesse, Bäume. Betrachtungen und Gedichte

[Genesis]

“To crave and to have are as like as a thing and its shadow.
For when does a berry break upon the tongue as sweetly as when one longs to taste it,
and when is the taste refracted into so many hues and savors of ripeness and earth,
and when do our senses know any thing so utterly as when we lack it?

And here again is a foreshadowing -- the world will be made whole.
For to wish for a hand on one's hair is all but to feel it.
So whatever we may lose, very craving gives it back to us again.”

― Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping

[Chained Daisy]

[Genesis]

I can see the strength of your devotion,
in your shoreline of emotion-
your grace brings such healing,
and oh, those eyes as deep as the ocean.

Freeing from all the dry and deserted land,
now only pebbles on a shore can understand-
I see the crystalline moments you hold...
in those eyes as golden as the sand...

-L.L.

[Genesis]

The sadness is really hard to bear, struggling on the edge of love.
To really know if it is lost or still there, buried so deep under hurt, guilt and sorrow.
Or is it just a fond remembrance of a once new and passionate love?

The answers, the truth, lay deep inside.

There is no shortcut, no gentle path, it's an uphill battle all the way.
There will be a time, when you crest the hill, and the answer quietly appears.
You may be walking tall and alone or holding hands with the love of your life.
Only time and patience and tears will tell what your heart already knows,
but silently waits to whisper to your soul...

~Nadine Kingsley

[Genesis]

[Genesis]

[Genesis]

[Genesis]

[Genesis]

[homoe]

[homoe]