"The value of a man should be seen in what he gives,
And not in what he is able to receive."
-Albert Einstein
An Ode to Summer!
"The winner is always part of the answer.
The loser is always part of the problem.
The winner always has a program.
The loser always has an excuse.
The winner says, "Let me do it for you.
"The loser says, "That's not my job."
The winner sees an answer of every problem,
The loser sees a problem for every answer.
The winner sees a green near every sand trap.
The loser sees two or three sand-traps near every green.
The winner says,"It may be difficult but it's possible".
The loser says, "It may be possible but it's too difficult."
Be a winner."
-Winners vs. Losers
35mm Film
"A gardener told me some plants move,
But I could not believe it.
Till me and Hannah Hunt
Saw crawling vines and weeping willows
As we made our way from Providence to Phoenix.
A man of faith said,
"Hidden eyes could see what I was thinking."
I just smiled and told him
That was only true of Hannah,
And we glided on through Waverley and Lincoln.
Our days were long our nights no longer.
Count the seconds, watching hours.
Though we live on the US dollar.
You and me, we got our own sense of time."
Hannah Hunt
Modern Vampires Of The City
MVOTC
Vampire Weekend
work entitled - Hannah Hunt
A S C E N T
“In each age men of genius undertake the ascent. From below, the world follows them with their eyes. These men go up the mountain, enter the clouds, disappear, reappear. People watch them, mark them. They walk by the side of precipices. They daringly pursue their road. See them aloft, see them in the distance; they are but black specks. On they go. The road is uneven, its difficulties constant. At each step a wall, at each step a trap. As they rise the cold increases. They must make their ladder, cut the ice and walk on it, hewing the steps in haste. A storm is raging. Nevertheless they go forward in their madness. The air becomes difficult to breathe. The abyss yawns below them. Some fall. Others stop and retrace their steps; there is a sad weariness. The bold ones continue. They are eyed by the eagles; the lightning plays about them: the hurricane is furious. No matter, they persevere.”
-Victor Hugo
It landed and slept.
That foreign thing, a bit unkept.
It arose and crept,
Down to the riverside.
To wash and awake.
Alone it drinks,
Alone it thinks.
And thinks, and thinks, and thinks.
It walks to edge,
But then travels back.
Reminiscing home,
Precious time ingrown.
If only it had known.
Had it been told?
Had it been shown?
Then is not now.
Now is not then.
It sleeps and dreams,
About youthful gleams,
This new life unforeseen.
Swoops of Grace
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)