#pan

Si se lo permitimos, los niños pueden enseñarnos la salida. Hay una historia muy conocida de una madre que entra en la habitación de su hijo recién nacido y se encuentra a su otro hijo, un niño de cuatro años, asomado a la cuna. -Tienes que contarme cómo es el cielo y cómo es Dios -le implora el niño a su hermanito-. ¡Estoy empezando a olvidarme! ↗

— Brian L. Weiss

#philosophy #spanish #wisdom #inspirational

Love is a clash of lightnings ↗

— Pablo Neruda

#love #poetry #spanish #true #beauty

Your enemies call it comeuppance and relish the details of a drug too fine, how long you must have dangled there beside yourself. In the middle distance of your twenty-ninth year, night split open like a fighter's bruised palm, a purple ripeness. Friends shook their heads. With you it was always the next attractive trouble, as if an arranged marriage had been made in a country of wing walkers, lion tamers, choirboys leaping from bellpulls into the high numb glitter, and you, born with the breath of wild on your tongue brash as gin. True, it was charming for a while. Your devil's balance, your debts. Then no one was laughing. Hypodermic needles and cash registers emptied themselves in your presence. Cars went head-on. Sympathy, old motor, ran out or we grew old, our tongues wearing little grooves in our mouths clucking disappointment. Michael, what pulled you up by upstart roots and set you packing, left the rest of us here, body-heavy on the edge of our pews. Over the reverend's lament we could still hear laughter, your mustache the angled black wings of a perfect crow. Later we taught ourselves the proper method for mourning haphazard life: salt, tequila, lemon. Drinking and drifting in your honor we barely felt a thing. ↗

— Dorothy Barresi

#life

A good friend will help you to discover the potentials you haven't uncovered. A bad friend will help you to cover up the potentials you have already recovered. Make your choice! ↗

— Israelmore Ayivor

#choice #companion #comrade #cover #cover-up

Ain’t many guys travel around together,” he mused. “I don’t know why. Maybe ever’body in the whole damn world is scared of each other. ↗

— John Steinbeck

#scared #men

Real haiku is the soul of poetry. Anything that is not actually present in one's heart is not haiku. The moon glows, flowers bloom, insects cry, water flows. There is no place we cannot find flowers or think of the moon. This is the essence of haiku. Go beyond the restrictions of your era, forget about purpose or meaning, separate yourself from historical limitations—there you will find the essence of true art, religion, and science. ↗

— Santoka Taneda

#creating #haiku #japanese #poetry #zen

Where do you go when you die twice- lest a thousand deaths? ↗

— Katlyn Charlesworth

#historical-fiction #japan #death

As to the war with Japan, the President had already received my memorandum in general as to the possibility of getting a substantial unconditional surrender from Japan which I had written before leaving Washington and which he had approved. ↗

— Henry L. Stimson

#approved #before #general #getting #had

He was prepared to die for it, as one of Baudelaire's dandies might have been prepared to kill himself in order to preserve himself in the condition of a work of art, for he wanted to make this experience a masterpiece of experience which absolutely transcended the everyday. And this would annihilate the effects of the cruel drug, boredom, to which he was addicted although, perhaps, the element of boredom which is implicit in an affair so isolated from the real world was its principle appeal for him. ↗

— Angela Carter

#baudelaire #boredom #love #art

No, I'm happy doing this. Five sweaters and a pair of dirty pants, you can make pretty good money. ↗

— McLean Stevenson

#doing #five #good #happy #i