For every beauty there is an eye somewhere to see it. For every truth there is an ear somewhere to hear it. For every love there is a heart somewhere to receive it - Ivan Panin
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
As a white candle
In a holy place
So is the beauty
Of an aged face.
As the spent radiance
Of the winter sun,
So is a woman
With her travail done,
Her brood gone from her,
And her thoughts as still
As the waters
Under a ruined mill.
(Joseph Campbell 1879-1944, Irish poet also known as Seosamh MacCathmhaoil)
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Father Time is not always a hard parent, and, though he tarries for none of his children, often lays his hand lightly upon those who have used him well; making them old men and women inexorably enough, but leaving their hearts and spirits young and in full vigour. With such people the grey head is but the impression of the old fellow's hand in giving them his blessing, and every wrinkle but a notch in the quiet calendar of a well-spent life. (Charles Dickens 1812-1870)
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The music is "Elizabethan Serenade" by Ronald Binge
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