... by Andre Gide has some interesting presecptives while the search of one's true identity continues ...
There are thousands way of life and each of us can know only one. It's madness to envy other people's happiness. Happiness doesn't come off the peg, it has to be made to measure. I leave tomorrow. I know- I have tried to tailor this happiness to fit me ... You hang on to the comfortable happiness of home life.
People don’t want to be like themselves. They all choose a model to imitate, or, if they don’t choose a model themselves, they accept one ready-made.
30 December 2010
29 December 2010
George Eliot ...
What greater thing is there for two human souls
than to feel that they are joined together to strengthen
each other in all labor, to minister to each other in all sorrow,
to share with each other in all gladness,
to be one with each other in the
silent unspoken memories?
than to feel that they are joined together to strengthen
each other in all labor, to minister to each other in all sorrow,
to share with each other in all gladness,
to be one with each other in the
silent unspoken memories?
13 December 2010
The beauty of psychiatry ...
... is wonderfully summed up by Lyall Watson ...
"If the brain were so simple we could understand it, we would be so simple we couldn't."
"If the brain were so simple we could understand it, we would be so simple we couldn't."
03 December 2010
Wislawa Szymborska ...
... "Going Home" describes my stay at my parents' during this snowy month, as my flat waits for its new coat to be perfectly tailored ...
He came home. Said nothing.
It was clear, though, that something had gone wrong.
He lay down fully dressed.
Pulled the blanket over his head.
Tucked up his knees.
He's nearly forty, but not at the moment.
He exists just as he did inside his mother's womb,
clad in seven walls of skin, in sheltered darkness.
Tomorrow he'll give a lecture
on homeostasis in metagalactic cosmonautics.
For now, though, he has curled up and gone to sleep.
... while "The Three Oddest Words" keeps you wonder about the beauty of languages ...
When I pronounce the word Future,
the first syllable already belongs to the past.
When I pronounce the word Silence,
I destroy it.
When I pronounce the word Nothing,
I make something no non-being can hold.
He came home. Said nothing.
It was clear, though, that something had gone wrong.
He lay down fully dressed.
Pulled the blanket over his head.
Tucked up his knees.
He's nearly forty, but not at the moment.
He exists just as he did inside his mother's womb,
clad in seven walls of skin, in sheltered darkness.
Tomorrow he'll give a lecture
on homeostasis in metagalactic cosmonautics.
For now, though, he has curled up and gone to sleep.
... while "The Three Oddest Words" keeps you wonder about the beauty of languages ...
When I pronounce the word Future,
the first syllable already belongs to the past.
When I pronounce the word Silence,
I destroy it.
When I pronounce the word Nothing,
I make something no non-being can hold.
01 December 2010
Beautiful winter ...
... wavers its magical wand among the silent falling snow flakes ...
"Never are voices so beautiful as on a winter's evening, when dusk almost hides the body, and they seem to issue from nothingness with a note of intimacy seldom heard by day." - Virginia Woolf ...
... while waiting for shopot zvyozd ("whispering of the stars", as your breaths freeze and fall onto the ground in Siberia) ...
"Never are voices so beautiful as on a winter's evening, when dusk almost hides the body, and they seem to issue from nothingness with a note of intimacy seldom heard by day." - Virginia Woolf ...
... while waiting for shopot zvyozd ("whispering of the stars", as your breaths freeze and fall onto the ground in Siberia) ...
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