I am lovely, O mortals, like a dream of stone; And my breast, where everyone is bruised in his turn, Has been made to awaken in poets a love That is eternal and as silent as matter.I am throned in blue sky like a sphinx unbeknown; My heart of snow is wed to the whiteness of swans; I detest any movement displacing still lines, And never do I weep and never laugh.
Charles BaudelaireRelated topics
breast dream everyone heart laugh love lovely matter silent sky snow stone turn weepRelated quotes
I think there's a time to work, and everyone has to kind of adjust. And then there's a time to relax, and be the mom or take the kids on vacation when you need to wind down. So it's a matter of planning, and being able to map out your year or your week or let's start with the day. It is just being multi-tasking and being available.
Vanessa L. Williams
May the Lord teach you humility - the source of all calm. From humility peace and quiet flow into the heart. If we are handed the cup of suffering, let us accept it as the cup of salvation, as a pledge of eternal joy. He who refuses sorrows, rejects also salvation God allows the devil to strike us for the sake of our salvation and humility.
Ignatius Bryanchaninov
No one will ever be closer to you than your parents. And no one's heart will ache for you as much as a parent's does. Father and Mother are the only ones who care about you more than anything else in the world, the only ones who truly love you. In the world, many things can be found again, but you can't find another Father or another Mother. Parents sacrifice themselves, lighting our path...
Ephraim of Arizona
I let my head fall back, and I gazed into the Eternal Blue Sky. It was morning. Some of the sky was yellow, some the softest blue. One small cloud scuttled along. Strange how everything below can be such death and chaos and pain while above the sky is peace, sweet blue gentleness. I heard a shaman say once, the Ancestors want our souls to be like the blue sky.
Shannon Hale
I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed Against the earth's sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree.
Joyce Kilmer
