Words worth repeating

“We are so busy constantly checking our own temperatures, we fail to notice the burning fevers of others.”

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.

"It had never occurred to me that our lives, which had been so closely interwoven, could unravel with such speed. If I'd known, maybe I'd have kept tighter hold of them and not let unseen tides pull us apart."

The other day I was crossing the street, lost in my head about something - a not uncommon state of affairs. I was listening to the overture and as the music began to swell I suddenly realized that: I had hands. And legs, and a torso, and that I was surrounded by people and cars. It's hard to explain exactly what happened, but I felt in that moment that the divine - however we may choose to define such a thing - surely dwells as much in the concrete and taxi cabs as it does in the rivers, lakes, and mountains. Grace, I realized, is neither time nor place dependent. All we need is the right soundtrack.

Annie: So, what got you into photography? Sam #2: Oh, I wouldn’t call it photography. Annie: What would you call it? Sam #2: I love taking pictures, I guess. Annie: Okay. Well, why do you take pictures? Sam #2: Umm.. I don’t know. When I see something I like looking at, I get to keep looking at it. ‪

There's an old joke: uh, two elderly women are at a Catskill mountain resort, and one of 'em says, "Boy, the food at this place is really terrible." The other one says, "Yeah, I know, and such small portions." Well, that's essentially how I feel about life. Full of loneliness and misery and suffering and unhappiness, and it's all over much too quickly.