Bestselling Author - Mentor - Historian
Photo by Richard Fogg
Are not the forest fringes wet
With tears? Is not the voice of all regret
Breaking out of the dark earth’s heart?
She too, she too, has loved and lost; and though
She turned last night in disdain
Away from the sunset-embers,
From her soul she can never depart;
She can never depart from her pain.
Vainly she strives to forget;
Beautiful in her woe,
She awakes in the dawn and remembers.
~ Alfred Noyes
Photo by Richard Fogg
You got to stop and smell the roses
You’ve got to count your many blessings everyday
You’re gonna find your way to heaven is a rough and rocky road
If you don’t stop and smell the roses along the way
~ Carl Severinsen and Mac Davis, songwriters.
Photo by Richard Fogg
Press’d by the Moon, mute arbitress of tides,
While the loud equinox its power combines,
The sea no more its swelling surge confines,
But o’er the shrinking land sublimely rides.
The wild blast, rising from the Western cave…
~ Charlotte Smith
Photo by Richard Fogg
Photo by Richard Fogg
Fly me to the moon
And let me play among the stars
Let me see what spring is like
On Jupiter and Mars
~ Bart Howard.
Photo by Richard Fogg
…the starlings are chattering, quarreling and laughing,
whispering and quietly enjoying themselves,
when suddenly a blustering as of ten thousand pairs
of sharp-edged scissors
passes through the republic of the plains–
it is as though an alarm had sounded,
heard as an echo over the muffled traffic.
Soon the darkness of night will fall.
But the starlings up there won’t stop talking,
they move together, push one another, chatter and flit.
~ Jesper Svenbro
Photo by Richard Fogg
Somewhere always is an everywhere
Where the mountains and the snow grow down
In time, until, in winter’s deep sleep, time
Grows balanced, and in quiet you can climb
A mountain and the snow no one can own
Because in afternoon sunshine, time’s there.
~ David Rothman
Photo by Richard Fogg
Before the gods that made the gods
Had seen their sunrise pass,
The White Horse of the White Horse Vale
Was cut out of the grass…
~ G. K. Chesterton
Photo by Richard Fogg
Thus having prepared their buds
against a sure winter
the wise trees
stand sleeping in the cold.
~ William Carlos William.
Photo by Richard Fogg
When men were all asleep the snow came flying,
In large white flakes falling on the city brown,
Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying,
Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town;
Deadening, muffling, stifling its murmurs failing;
Lazily and incessantly floating down and down:
Silently sifting and veiling road, roof and railing;
Hiding difference, making unevenness even,
Into angles and crevices softly drifting and sailing.
All night it fell, and when full inches seven
It lay in the depth of its uncompacted lightness,
The clouds blew off from a high and frosty heaven;
And all woke earlier for the unaccustomed brightness
Of the winter dawning, the strange unheavenly glare:
The eye marvelled—marvelled at the dazzling whiteness;
The ear hearkened to the stillness of the solemn air;
No sound of wheel rumbling nor of foot falling.
~ Robert Bridges.
