Heart, are you great enough
For a love that never tires?
O heart, are you great enough for love?
I have heard of thorns and briers.
Over the thorns and briers,
Over the meadows and stiles,
Over the world to the end of it
Flash for a million miles.

~Alfred, Lord Tennyson~

There is a road from the eye to the heart that does not go through the intellect.

~G.K. Chesterton~ 

Beauty without the beloved is like a sword through the heart.

~Dante Gabriel Rossetti~

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

~W.B. Yeats~

Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore
Alone upon the threshold of my door
Of individual life, I shall command
The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand
Serenely in the sunshine as before,
Without the sense of that which I forbore, …
Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land
Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine
With pulses that beat double. What I do
And what I dream include thee, as the wine
Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue
God for myself, He hears that name of thine,
And sees within my eyes, the tears of two.

~Elizabeth Barrett Browning~

Out of your whole life give but a moment!
All of your life that has gone before,
All to come after it, -- so you ignore,
So you make perfect the present, -- condense,
In a rapture of rage, for perfection's endowment,
Thought and feeling and soul and sense --
Merged in a moment that gives me at last
You around me for once, you beneath me, above me --
Me -- sure that despite of time future, time past, --
This tick of our lifetime's one moment you love me!
How long such suspension may linger? Ah, Sweet --
The moment eternal -- just that and no more --
When ecstasy's utmost we clutch at the core
While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut and lips meet!

~Robert Browning~

One of the illusions of life is that the present hour is not the critical, decisive hour. Write it on your heart that every day is the best day of the year. 

~Ralph Waldo Emerson~

Ancient Person, for whom I
All the flattering youth defy,
Long be it e'er thou grow old,
Aching, shaking, crazy cold;
But still continue as thou art,
Ancient Person of my heart.

On thy withered lips and dry,
Which like barren furrows lie,
Brooding kisses I will pour,
Shall thy youthful heart restore,
Such kind show'rs in autumn fall,
And a second spring recall;
Nor from thee will ever part,
Ancient Person of my heart.

Thy nobler parts, which but to name
In our sex would be counted shame,
By ages frozen grasp possest,
From their ice shall be released,
And, soothed by my reviving hand,
In former warmth and vigour stand.
All a lover's wish can reach,
For thy joy my love shall teach;
And for thy pleasure shall improve
All that art can add to love.
Yet still I love thee without art,
Ancient Person of my heart.

~John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester~

One word frees us from all the weight and pain of life: That word is LOVE.

~Sophocles~

Keep thy heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues of life.

~Proverbs 4:23~


Because you come to me with naught save love,
And hold my hand and lift mine eyes above,
A wider world of hope and joy I see,
Because you come to me.

Because you speak to me in accents sweet,
I find the roses waking round my feet,
And I am led through tears of joy to see,
Because you speak to me.

Because God made thee mine I'll cherish thee
Through light and darkness, through all time to be,
And pray His love may make our lives divine.
Because God made thee mine.

~Edward Teschemacher~

If love were what the rose is,
And I were like the leaf,
Our lives would grow together
In sad or singing weather,
Blown fields or flowerful closes,
Green pleasure or gray grief;
If love were what the rose is,
And I were like the leaf.

If I were what the words are,
And love were like the tune,
With double sound and single
Delight our lips would mingle,
With kisses glad as birds are
That get sweet rain at noon;
If I were what the words are,
And love were like the tune.

If you were life, my darling,
And I your love were death,
We'd shine and snow together
Ere March made sweet the weather
With daffodil and starling
And hours of fruitful breath;
If you were life, my darling,
And I your love were death.

If you were thrall to sorrow,
And I were page to joy,
We'd play for lives and seasons
With loving looks and treasons
And tears of night and morrow
And laughs of maid and boy;
If you were thrall to sorrow,
And I were page to joy.

If you were April's lady,
And I were lord in May,
We'd throw with leaves for hours
And draw for days with flowers,
Till day like night were shady
And night were bright like day;
If you were April's lady
And I were lord in May.

If you were queen of pleasure,
And I were king of pain,
We'd hunt down love together,
Pluck out his flying feather,
And teach his feet a measure,
And find his mouth a rein;
If you were queen of pleasure,
And I were king of pain.

~Algernon Charles Swinburne~

The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing.

~Blaise Pascal~

There is no instinct like that of the heart.

~George Gordon, Lord Byron~

My heart will never, never be yours alone.
Too many things I love to speak the lie:
Red tides of sunset breaking on the sky,
Slow twilights, and the first rose suddenly blown
to fiery splendor on a day in spring;
Cold mountain water passionate and strong
And wild with music, and the first sharp song
Of birds when day has folded like a wing.
My head will lie upon your shoulder deep
Into the night, and I will find you fair,
And swing the gates to heaven in my sleep
Beside you, breathing the fragrance of your hair,
And though my lips shall always claim your own
My heart will never, never be yours alone.

~Daniel Whitehead Hicky~

 Be careful what you set your heart on, for it will surely be yours.

~Ralph Waldo Emerson~

 A loving heart is the truest wisdom.

~Charles Dickens~

A thankful heart is not only the greatest virtue, but the parent of all other virtues.

~Cicero~

With all my will, but much against my heart,
We two now part.
My Very Dear,
Our solace is, the sad road lies so clear.
It needs no art,
With faint, averted feet
And many a tear,
In our opposed paths to persevere.
Go thou East, I West.
We will not say
There's any hope, it is so far away.
But, O, my Best,
When the one darling of our widowhead,
The nursling Grief,
Is dead,
And no dews blur our eyes
To see the peach-bloom come to evening skies,
Perchance we may,
Where now this night is day,
And even through faith of still averted feet,
Making full circle of our banishment,
Amazed meet;
The bitter journey to the bourne so sweet
Seasoning the termless feast of our content
With tears of recognition never dry.

~Coventry Patmore~

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~Happy Monday ~ Happy Valentine's Day ~ Happy Week~

"A commonplace life," we say, and we sigh,
But why should we sigh as we say?
The commonplace sun in the commonplace sky
Makes up the commonplace day;
The moon and the stars are commonplace things,
And the flower that blooms, and the bird that sings,
But dark were the world, and sad our lot,
If the flowers failed, and the sun shone not;
And God, who studies each separate soul,
Out of commonplace lives makes His beautiful whole.

Susan Coolidge

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Happy Weekend!

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TG often takes me to the store and I cannot tell you how many times he waited patiently while I selected spools of grosgrain and velvet, packets of o-rings and crimps, and cards of trinkets.

Every lady on my gift list received at least one bookmark.

I got the idea from Pinterest, in a pin about beautiful gifts to make for less than five dollars.

That there is a craft even I can do, I thought to my bad non-crafty self.

I was particularly drawn to the idea of deconstructing old costume jewelry and repurposing the elements into bookmarks.

Since I rarely throw anything away, I had scads of earrings, necklaces, and bracelets that I hadn't worn in years and would never wear again.

It was fun making them into bookmarks and giving them to my girls, who remember me wearing the earrings and other baubles when they were children.

Then, inspired by a gift from darling Donna of Cottage Days and Journeys, I bought some waxed linen and a bunch of beads, and started in on the beaded variety of bookmark.

So far I've given away everything I've made, but pretty soon I plan to add a page to this web site and begin selling them.

I call them collectively "Book Swag" because, well, pirates love swag.

These bookmarks are fun to use and they make unique, affordable gifts. They can be custom made to any theme or preference, even using objects you cannot part with but don't use anymore.

Since I "sip" at books rather than reading one to the end before starting another, I may need to mark six or seven volumes at a time.

Many of my dear friends tell me they do the same.

These are prettier than scraps of paper and you know we never want to turn down a page corner.

So stay tuned for more ways to swag your books than you ever dreamed of!

Because as my daughter Audrey rightly says: You can never have too many bookmarks.

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Happy Wednesday!

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Photo courtesy Todd MeisterOf all the months, January is by far my least favorite.

With the exception of TG's birthday I look forward to very little in January, and I admit to being in grin-and-bear-it mode for much of the month.

I always breathe a fervent good riddance when I turn my calendar page to February.

But I enjoyed January of 2012. The weather has been beautiful, everybody is well, and we've had a few lovely trips.

It has been a good year so far and I predict it will only get better. You will not hear me complain.

Last year, you may recall, on New Year's Day our daughter lost her little baby.

On January 4, 2011, TG's beloved father suffered a massive stroke.

Grandpa lived four days before going to Heaven on January 8, 2011.

We attended his funeral on January 15 and yes, it was brutal winter in Ohio and although in many ways we rejoiced throughout the experience, I think I speak for all involved when I say we were more than glad to see January go.

Our 2011 improved but for a family in the church where my son-in-law serves as pastor, the year turned out to be the most trying of their lives.

Just as our Stephanie had been before the miscarriage, Sunshine was expecting her third child. She and her husband, Todd, already have two little boys.

They were thrilled when an ultrasound revealed the baby was a girl. Her name was decided: Emma Ruth.

But one day during the sixth month of Sunshine's pregnancy, she realized something was wrong.

Baby Emma Ruth passed away on February 4, 2011. My son-in-law preached her funeral and she was laid to rest in the cemetery behind the church.

Sunshine and Todd were devastated but they kept their chins up and trusted in God's wisdom. By early summer, they learned there was another baby on the way.

Only, shortly after absorbing that wonderful news, Todd became very ill and was diagnosed with a brain tumor.

He's undergone several surgeries since then but, considering the circumstances, things are going well.

On February 3, 2012, a year less one day since the loss of Emma Ruth, Emma Grace was born to Todd and Sunshine.

Everybody is fine.

Our Stephanie is due any day with her own new baby. We don't know "what it is" because when Steph had her ultrasounds, she asked the technician not to reveal the baby's gender.

She wants to be surprised.

And I confess, I am hoping for a boy.

Melanie and Allissa are, shall we say, enthusiastic about the whole thing. Every day they watch their mother as she gets the nursery ready to welcome the baby.

Allissa can recite all of the expectant mothers in their church (there are several), whether they are carrying a girl or a boy (they don't want to be surprised), and when their church-ladies showers are scheduled.

My granddaughter can smell cake two weeks away.

Over the Christmas holidays, Audrey asked Allissa if she preferred a baby sister or brother.

Photo courtesy Todd Meister
She said she didn't know.

Audrey pressed her for an answer. C'mon, Liss. Do you want the new baby to be a boy or a girl?

I. Do. Not. Know. Allissa repeated.

We figure she thought Audrey was asking whether her mommy's baby was a boy or a girl rather than inquiring as to which one she wanted it to be.

Judging by the picture taken just after Sunshine said she could hold the honey weight of newborn Emma Grace in her arms, Allissa's going to be ecstatic no matter what color sleepers her new sibling wears.

Stephanie's got me on standby so that, when she sets out for the hospital, I can be there in record time to take pictures.

You know you're going to see those so get all your ooohs and aaaaahs ready.

Then I hope to spend a few days cuddling my three grandbabies.

January is long but February is love, y'all.

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But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven.  ~Matthew 19:14~

I'm especially fond of Annabel Lee with its romance and lyricism.

Read a poem every day! It will help you.

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ANNABEL LEE

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee; --
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

She was a child and I was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love --
I and my Annabel Lee --
With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, by night
Chilling my Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me:
Yes! That was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud, chilling,
And killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we --
Of many far wiser than we --
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee: --

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea --
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)

Happy Weekend!

L to R: "Mac" with roommates Jerry Bergh and Pete Peters. Photo courtesy BJ Brown.

I was laughing because of her pitch-perfect mimicry, not being flip about the gravity of the situation.

Of all memorable movie moments, as far as I'm concerned Robin Williams's carpe diem seize the day speech at the beginning of Dead Poets Society ranks in the top fifty.

L to R: Pete Peters, Mac, BJ Brown, Jerry Bergh. Along with his flight instructor, Pete Peters would die in a mid-air collision before the end of 1952. Photo courtesy BJ Brown.
(It's not only priceless, but chillingly true. As I'm fond of saying: Even when it's long, life is short.)

When we got home I checked my emails and found I had a personal message on Find A Grave.

The note was from one BJ Brown, USAF (Ret.), and he was writing to let me know that he was roommates with my dad at Bainbridge Air Base, Georgia, while they were in flight school during the summer and fall of 1952.

In subsequent emails BJ explained that he had found some old pictures among his effects, and it reminded him of my father -- who he remembers as "Mac" -- so he Googled his name.

That's how he found my Find A Grave memorial to my dad.

My father (L) on the flight line at Bainbridge with fellow pilot Max Lee. Photo courtesy BJ Brown.

BJ has sent me several pictures of my father posing with his roommates and other friends. I have very few candid photos of my dad so this was like finding unexpected treasure.

Recently I read something that intrigued me. I cannot remember where I saw it so I'm unable to give credit.

I paraphrase but it went like this: There is an invisible line from our birth to our death -- from the cradle to the grave as it were. The line represents our life, no matter how short or long it may be. And our grave is just as much a part of that line, and therefore of us, as our birth and the lifespan we are given.

I didn't know my father at all and I've never been to his grave. His roommate from sixty years ago knew him better than I and remembers things about him I can only guess at.

In the pictures BJ sent me, my father is twenty-one -- nearly two years younger than my own son today.

L to R: BJ Brown, Mac, and the doomed Pete Peters pose beside my father's car. Photo courtesy BJ Brown. It would be at least another year before he met my mother.

He didn't know it but he had only sixteen years left to live.

My father was past the midpoint of that line from the cradle to what some would consider an early grave. But because ignorance is bliss, he laughed in the sun and learned to fly airplanes and made close friends.

In recent days one of those friends remembered him and, through the miracle of the Internet, gave me a glimpse of my father I couldn't have gotten from anyone else.

Way to seize the day, BJ. Carpe diem.

God bless you.