Thursday, 30 June 2011

Where I come from
it's a long thin thread
Across an ocean.
Down a river of red.
Now that the living
outnumber the dead.
I'm one of many.
A room without books is like a body without a soul.

Wednesday, 29 June 2011

Sunday, 26 June 2011

As I see it, life is an effort to grip,
before they slip through one's fingers and slide into oblivion,
the startling, the ghastly or the blindingly exquisite fish of the imagination
before they whip away on the endless current
and are lost for ever in oblivion's black ocean.

Wednesday, 22 June 2011

Tuesday, 21 June 2011

Wisdom begins in wonder.

Sunday, 19 June 2011

Each day I live in a glass room
unless I break it with the thrusting of my senses
and pass through the splintered walls to the great landscape.

Friday, 17 June 2011

Thursday, 16 June 2011

Life is without meaning. 
You bring the meaning to it. 
The meaning of life is whatever you ascribe it to be. 
Being alive is the meaning.
So come, my friends, be not afraid.
We are so lightly here.
It is in love that we are made;
In love we disappear.

Wings Of Desire

Wednesday, 15 June 2011

As I see it, or as I want to see it,
the marvels of the visible world are not things in themselves
but revelations to stir the imagination —
to conduct us to amazing climates of the mind,
which climates it is for the artist
to translate into paint or into words.
This we know:
the earth does not belong to man, man belongs to the earth.
All things are connected like the blood that unites us all.
Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it.
Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.

Sunday, 12 June 2011