Those Winter Sundays (by Robert Hayden) Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. No one… Continue Reading →
Ode on Intimations of Immortality (by William Wordsworth) Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting And cometh from afar; Not in entire forgetfulness, And… Continue Reading →
“Love cures people – both the ones who give it and the ones who receive it.” Karl Menninger
Love Does That (by Meister Eckhart) All day long a little burro labors, sometimes with heavy loads on her back and sometimes just with worries about things that bother only burros. And worries, as we know, can be more exhausting… Continue Reading →
© 2024 Bill Johnson — Powered by WordPress
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑