Someone is always waiting ?

See, the grass is full of stars,  Fallen in their brightness;  Hearts they have of shining gold,  Rays of shining whiteness.  Buttercups have honeyed hearts,  Bees they love the clover,  But I love the daisies’ dance  All the meadow over.  Blow, O blow, you happy winds,  Singing summer’s praises,  Up the field and down the field  A-dancing with the daisies. by Marjorie Pickthall

“Speak to me: I will spend my lifetime trying to understand you.” ― Kamand Kojouri

Around the Corner Around the corner I have a friend,In this great city that has no end;Yet days go by, and weeks rush on,And before I know it, a year is gone,And I never see my old friend's face,For Life is a swift and terrible race.He knows I like him just as wellAs in the days when I rang his bellAnd he rang mine. We were younger then,And now we are busy, tired men:Tired with playing a foolish game,Tired with trying to make a name."Tomorrow," I say, "I will call on Jim,Just to show that I'm thinking of him."But tomorrow comes--and tomorrow goes,And the distances between us grows and grows. Around the corner!--yet miles away . . . "Here's a telegram, sir . . ."                                                     "Jim died today."And that's what we get, and deserve in the end: Around the corner, a vanished friend. by Charles Hanson Towne

“I want to write my own eulogy, and I want to write it in Latin. It seems only fitting to read a dead language at my funeral.” ― Jarod Kintz

for his first fishing expedition with Papa and Dad on the shores of Shadow Lake by Carl Palmer

A Lily Light Afternoon A shaft of sunshine streams through magnolia clouds glides over a sleepy village streaks shadows on patchwork meadows and warms textured straw bales wrapped in harvest light.  Milk laden cows  graze clover fields as sheep stud the hillside.  Sprinting brambles  prickle wild hedgerows swollen with purple fleshy fruits. Song birds bolt from beech to sycamore humming melodies blossoming the breeze on a lily light afternoon. by Máire Morrissey-Cummins

“Ocean separates lands, not souls..” ― Munia Khan

“My whole life has been spent walking by the side of a bottomless chasm, jumping from stone to stone. Sometimes I try to leave my narrow path and join the swirling mainstream of life, but I always find myself drawn inexorably back towards the chasm's edge, and there I shall walk until the day I finally fall into the abyss.” ― Edvard Munch

Great is the sun, and wide he goes Through empty heaven with repose; And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through. The dusty attic spider-clad He, through the keyhole, maketh glad; And through the broken edge of tiles Into the laddered hay-loft smiles. Meantime his golden face around He bares to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivy's inmost nook. Above the hills, along the blue, Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child, to paint the rose, The gardener of the World, he goes. by Robert Louis Stevenson

"Nothing is as real as a dream. The world can change around you, but your dream will not. Responsibilities need not erase it. Duties need not obscure it. Because the dream is within you, no one can take it away." ―  Tom Clancy

Gardenias I will grow a garden full of gardenias in gratitude for days gone by not gray days but green and gold days of summer gone fishing days no need for galoshes days days that fill a gorge with wishes granted. by Gail Goepfert

At evening my father lays down his tools while the sun sets the sea on fire. Who among the heavens knows why he heaped lumber in the yard as when he was a young man, and now my father, sudden maker of a shed,             is Noah building an ark for his hammers and his saws. Rain-tight, mitres snug. Plumb.             It will outlast him. The rains, when they come, will be long.    Destiny shook her head at me and said at the appointed time, he must cross alone. Then bring your lamps, your bundled flowers.  Bring lupines, lilac, apple blossom. Leave your oars and your grief.                          See the waters blazing, lit. The darkness may not have him yet. by Pamela Porter

“I can be quite sarcastic when I'm in the mood.” ― J.D. Salinger

“How can you govern a country which has 246 varieties of cheese?” ― Charles de Gaulle

“The whole world might know you and acclaim you, but someone in the past, forever unreachable, forever unknowing, spoils it all. ” ― Isaac Asimov