Compilation of the Heart - Nurture

If we are to make reality endurable,
       
we must all nourish a fantasy or two.

Marcel Proust

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Stepping out

Maybe each human being lives in a unique world, a private world different from those inhabited and experienced by all other humans... If reality differs from person to person, can we speak of reality singular, or shouldn't we really be talking about plural realities? And if there are plural realities, are some more true (more real) than others?

What about the world of a schizophrenic? Maybe it's as real as our world. Maybe we cannot say that we are in touch with reality and he is not, but should instead say, His reality is so different from ours that he can't explain his to us, and we can't explain ours to him.

The problem, then, is that if subjective worlds are experienced too differently, there occurs a breakdown in communication... and there is the real illness.

Philip K. Dick

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To Dream the Impossible Dream

This is my Quest.

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Compilation of the Heart - Better be good ones.

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Random Paradox

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How I spell all my little P-I-E-C-E-S

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Love letters from Ludwig van Beethoven to his "Immortal Beloved", whose identity remains unclear. So beautiful...

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Unlimited

Success is the ability to go from one failure to another

with no loss of enthusiasm.

Winston Churchill

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Compilation of the Heart - More than Coincidence

We recognize that there are

no trivial occurrences in life

if we get the right focus on them.

Mark Twain

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I call’d him soft Names

Ode to a Nightingale – John Keats

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains

My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,

Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains

One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:

’Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,

But being too happy in thine happiness,—

That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees,

In some melodious plot

Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,

Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

 

O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been

Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth,

Tasting of Flora and the country green,

Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth!

O for a beaker full of the warm South,

Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,

With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,

And purple-stained mouth;

That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,

And with thee fade away into the forest dim:

 

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget

What thou among the leaves hast never known,

The weariness, the fever, and the fret

Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;

Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,

Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;

Where but to think is to be full of sorrow

And leaden-eyed despairs,

Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,

Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

 

Away! away! for I will fly to thee,

Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,

But on the viewless wings of Poesy,

Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:

Already with thee! tender is the night,

And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,

Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays;

But here there is no light,

Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown

Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

 

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,

Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,

But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet

Wherewith the seasonable month endows

The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;

White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;

Fast fading violets cover’d up in leaves;

And mid-May’s eldest child,

The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,

The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

 

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time

I have been half in love with easeful Death,

Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme,

To take into the air my quiet breath;

Now more than ever seems it rich to die,

To cease upon the midnight with no pain,

While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad

In such an ecstasy!

Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—

To thy high requiem become a sod.

 

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!

No hungry generations tread thee down;

The voice I hear this passing night was heard

In ancient days by emperor and clown:

Perhaps the self-same song that found a path

Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,

She stood in tears amid the alien corn;

The same that oft-times hath

Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam

Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

 

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell

To toll me back from thee to my sole self!

Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well

As she is fam’d to do, deceiving elf.

Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades

Past the near meadows, over the still stream,

Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep

In the next valley-glades:

Was it a vision, or a waking dream?

Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep?
    

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Compilation of the Heart - Maria

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Everybody needs Somebody (sometimes)

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"Giro giro tondo, gira il Mondo..."

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Still Life of an Ashtray

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Compilation of the Heart - Ground-bound

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Compilation of the Heart - Purple

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Shine on

Makes me cry.

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'Nonsense-mediated mRNA Decay' (NMD)

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The Show must go on

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The Flow of Love

Vom Himmel kommt es,

Zum Himmel steigt es,

Und wieder nieder

Zur Erde muß es,

Ewig wechselnd.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe - Gesang der Geister über den Wassern

[Translation]

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Alcohol & Cigarettes

please understand

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Compilation of the Heart - A Cup of Time to Tell, my Love

So many things I could say, my Love.

So many Moments in Time.

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My wandering Soul

A sage was asked, “How long have we been on this journey?” 
He replied, “Imagine a mountain three miles wide, three miles high, and three miles long. Once every hundred years, a bird flies over the mountain, holding a silk scarf in its beak, which it brushes across the surface of the mountain. The time it would take for the scarf to wear down the mountain is how long we’ve been doing this.”

Ram Dass  

solace at last

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Still I call it Magic

I still believe. In magic.

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Heartbeats and Brainwaves

♥

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Compilation of the Heart - Crispy

Thank you my dear! Love ya lots ♥

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Repost: Compilation of the Heart - Bad HeA(i)Rt Day?

and that is the problem

[Archive: Thursday, August 15, 2013]

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