That I did always love
I bring thee Proof
That till I loved
I never lived-Enough-
from That I did always love by Emily Dickinson
Perhaps it is time to turn up the heat…
The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry’s cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I’ll put a trinket on.
by Emily Dickinson – Autumn
My garden cherub beholds fall’s dramatic show of color.
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Because I would not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
I remember sitting at my bedroom desk trying to analyze a poem for a ninth grade English class. As I gazed outside the window for inspiration, I saw that dusk had painted the sky a brilliant conch shell pink and a pale lavender blanket of snow cloaked the ground, save for a grove of birch trees whose silhouette looked like tall paper dolls pressed together in conversation.
At that moment I had the terrifying realization that death would come calling one day. I tried to grapple with the notion that I would not continue in my mind and body for eternity. My view of the world changed on that mid-November afternoon at the tender age of thirteen. Even though I was doomed to see things through the glass darkly as it were, from that day forth, what I did behold was with passion, amazement, and wonder.
At middle age, almost against my will, I have revisited that landscape of my youth. I am grateful for another opportunity to consider my mortality and make choices that will enhance my life as I begin a new chapter.
Time is the most valuable, but diminishing, asset I have. I am now very careful about with whom I give and receive the gift of time. I do not engage in personal relationships that are not joyful, loving, or satisfying and I aspire to have at least one positive experience each and every day.
You, too, can give yourself the gift of time – it is never too late to make a change!
Model – Lauren DiMarco
Beauty is not caused. It is.
Prompted by a discussion about the female romantic poets’ lives, my English professor told the class about an offer of marriage that she had received some years earlier. Her suitor had sworn his undying love and devotion – saying she was the first woman he had ever truly loved. He was utterly devastated when she said she could not marry someone with such a limited capacity for love.
I wondered why she dismissed him on a quantitative versus qualitative measure? A person may fall in and out of love all the time – does that make him more predisposed to form a lasting relationship? I think not. Surely the depth of a love, the recognition that the person you love is the one is some predictor for a lasting relationship, I just do not know how one would measure it.
Singer – Frederik Rubin