Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye And all my soul and all my every part; And for this sin there is no remedy, It is so grounded inward in my heart. Methinks no face so gracious is as mine, No shape so true, no truth of such account; And for myself mine own worth do define, As I all other in all worths surmount. But when my glass shows me myself indeed, Beated and chopp’d with tann’d antiquity, Mine own self-love quite contrary I read; Self so self-loving were iniquity. ‘Tis thee, myself, that for myself I praise, Painting my age with beauty of thy days. by William Shakespeare
Haven’t laughed this hard in a long time I better stop now before I start crying Go off to sleep in the sunshine I don’t want to see the day when it’s dying She’s a sight to see She’s good to me I’m already somebody’s baby She’s a pretty thing She knows everything But I’m already somebody’s baby You don’t deserve to be lonely But those drugs you’ve got won’t make you feel better Pretty soon you’ll find it’s the only Little part of your life you’re keeping together I’m nice to you I could make it through But you’re already somebody’s baby I could make you smile If you stayed a while But how long will you stay with me, baby? ~Because your candle burns too bright Well I almost forgot it was twilight Even if I think that you are right Well I’m tired of being down, I got no fight You’re wonderful And it’s beautiful I’m already somebody’s baby And if I went with you I’d disappoint you too Well I’m already somebody’s baby Already somebody’s baby To a musical genius, gone too soon, and, who left so much undone. He will be missed.
Splendour in the Grass What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower, We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind. William Wordsworth 1770-1850 “Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower, We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind.” The words, immediately above, are quoted in the film, Splendor in the Grass whose star, Natalie Wood, left us too early in her life and ours.
“When you’re young, and in good health, you can imagine living in New York City, or Nepal, or in a tree beyond the moon, and who knows who you’ll marry: a millionaire, a monkey, a sea captain, a clown. But the best imaginers are the old and wounded, who swim through ever narrowing choices, dedicating their hearts to peace, a stray cat, a bowl of homemade vegetable soup, or red Mountain Ash berries in the snow. Imagine this: only one leg and lucky to have it, a jig-jagged jaunt with a cane along the shore, leaning on a walker to get from grocery to car, smoothing down the sidewalk on a magic moving chair, teaching every child you meet the true story of this sad, sweet, tragic, Fourth of July world.” by Freya Manfred