My bookshelf

Yes, these friends are finally being packed away. Today. Suffocating, perhaps. I like to think i am giving them a break. And me too. Its been a few years since I read them, but before I stack them, lovingly put aside, i extract a few thoughts to pass your way…

I never promised you a rose garden. But dear, my promise garden flourishes. Even, dead of winter, a bleak despair, seeds believe in miracles.

“Beauty has no obvious use; nor is there any clear cultural necessity for it. Yet civilization could not do without it.”

“My love is something valuable to me which I ought not to throw away without reflection.”

Freud Civilization and Its Discontents

“we are all murderers and prostitutes – no matter to what culture, society, class, nation one belongs, no matter how normal, moral, or mature, one takes oneself to be.”

“Whether life is worth living depends on whether there is love in life.”

r. d. laing

Like old friends, we will meet again. In a new town, the words will take on new meanings.

I actually wrote this a week ago. Its like a memory. I suppose it is memory. Feels a dream I want to wake up from. But the possibility of living in Boston is intriguing. Closer to my love of Monhegan Island and Maine. I can hear the loons call and follow the moose tracks… that is what life exists for me.

2 thoughts on “My bookshelf

  1. Packing, moving and settling into a new home are challenging tasks. I wish you good luck and much patience through this new journey. I always enjoy your prose as much as your poetry, dear Jeanne. You carry the poetry into your prose. Happy New Year, Happy New Home, Happy Writing! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s