I used to dream about escaping my ordinary life, but my life was never ordinary. I had simply failed to notice how extraordinary it was. Likewise, I never imagined that home might be something I would miss. Ransom Riggs
What though the radiancewhich 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… from Ode: Intimations of Immortality by William Wordsworth
Still searching for strength in the ruins of what was a beautiful life – rest in peace.
Again and again, however we know the landscape of love and the little churchyard there, with its sorrowing names, and the frighteningly silent abyss into which the others fall: again and again the two of us walk out together under the ancient tree, lie down again and again among the flowers, face to face with the sky. from Again And Again, However We Know The Landscape Of Love by Rilke
If ever two were one, then surely we. If ever man were loved by wife, then thee; If ever wife was happy in a man, Compare with me, ye women, if you can. I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold Or all the riches that the East doth hold. My love is such that rivers cannot quench, Nor ought but love from thee, give recompense. Thy love is such I can no way repay, The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray. Then while we live, in love let’s so persevere That when we live no more, we may live ever. from To My Dear And Loving Husband by Anne Bradstreet
And her lips opened amorously, and said- I wist not what, saving one word – Delight. And all her face was honey to my mouth, And all her body pasture to mine eyes; from Love and Sleep by Charles Swinburne
Only a dad but he gives his all, To smooth the way for his children small, Doing with courage stern and grim The deeds that his father did for him. This is the line that for him I pen: Only a dad, but the best of men. from Only a Dad by Edgar A. Guest
What sort of diary should I like mine to be? Something looseknit and yet not slovenly, so elastic that it will embrace anything, solemn, slight or beautiful that comes to mind. I should like it to resemble some deep old desk, or capacious hold-all, in which one flings a mass of odds and ends without looking them through. by Virginia Woolf
I created my journal cover (above) with a painted section of fabric from a vintage Joseph Ribhoff jacket.