How many friends we have
is not as important
as what friend we are to others.
One of the greatest desires,
is a friendship to span miles and hours.
No man is an island. –Donne
Some days the loneliness,
a brutal ache inside,
a mourning confused, resides.
Do not misunderstand.
I love to sit
my desk a harbor
from which I peer
living in the borders of my heart.
Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone
– we find it with another.
Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time. –Merton
Unhinge from the world
in make-believe all our own
inside are windows and doors.
Some locked, others opened
the horizon minding the circling storms.
Hemingway penned a book “For Whom the Bell Tolls” and those who war within feel the sense that it tolls for them and death looks in the centering eye and asks “Why chain yourself to toil for those afraid to run in the open air?” And I answer “If I abandon truth, how shall I look within and find the meaning of why at all.” A riddle to solve in art.
“For what are we born if not to aid one another?”
“Today is only one day in all the days that will ever be.”
“I wish we had horses to ride,” Maria said.
“In my happiness I would like to be
on a good horse and ride fast with thee riding fast beside me
and we would ride faster and faster, galloping, and never pass my happiness.”
“I wish I could write well enough to write that story, he thought.
What we did. Not what the others did to us.” –Hemingway