Monthly Archives: June 2015
Search a beautiful heart,not a beautiful face.Beautiful things are not always good,but good things are always beautiful../..Güzel bir yüz yerine güzel bir kalp arayın.Güzel bir şey, her zaman iyi değildir; ama iyi bir şey her zaman güzeldir.
1. If you are right, then there is no need to get angry.
2. Patience with family is love
3. Never think hard about past, It brings tears.
4. Every test in our life makes us bitter or better.
5.Search a beautiful heart, not a beautiful face.
My Remark: It’s Not Danger just for Students; It is Danger for Mankind.
Two kids are sitting in a high school auditorium, listening to the principal give the welcoming speech for the year.
The principal says, “The two greatest dangers that students face are ignorance and apathy.”
One of the students turns to his friend and asks, “Dude, what’s ignorance and apathy?’”
The other student, bored and restless and wanting for the speech to end says, “I don’t know and I don’t care.”
Copied and Pasted because I could not find the ‘Reblog’ button.
Love, Seventeen Lines Long
Love is the point.
If not love, what?
Why not love?
Absent love, no meaning.
Encourage love, not hate.
Eternity — in love forever.
Love creates the universe.
Your own love burns.
Live as you love.
Don’t forget to love.
Love creates worlds inside.
Love yourself as compassion.
Though difficult, always love.
Is any love bad?
To love, first understand.
Your love saved me.
Carol A. Hand
Have you ever felt a deep sense of kinship or overwhelming revulsion upon meeting someone for the first time? Seen someone’s face change as you gazed at them, like the layers of an onion dissolving to reveal deeper layers of light or darkness? Felt the weight of too many conflicting thoughts and emotions as you looked out at an audience when you lectured or entered a crowd? Been the person in the crowd whom strangers gravitated to in order to seek help or share their stories and troubles? How can you deal with this level of unwanted sensitivity in a household, organization, or world that is too often filled with chaos, unkindness and violence?
Drawing: Carol A. Hand
We are told by religions that compassion is essential for a world at peace, that empathy – “the feeling that you understand and share another person’s experiences and emotions:…
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Accurate, and beautifully expressed.
“When, alone amid words, we are unable to communicate the slightest vibration to them, when they seem to us as dry, as degraded as ourselves, when the mind’s silence is heavier than that of objects, we descend to the point where the dread of our inhumanity lays hold of us. Adrift, far from the evident, we suffer suddenly that horror of language which hurls us into silence—an instant of vertigo in which poetry alone can console us for the momentary loss of our certainties and our doubts.”
~ Emil Cioran, The Temptation to Exist
The Way of Tiny Swordfish, a prose poem
Sitting in the living room next to the indoor fish pond. Watching the tiny swordfish jump up the miniature rock waterfall, knowing and empathizing with their drive to go somewhere farther along, somewhere even unknown, somewhere presently unattainable.
Sitting on the floor next to the black Naugahyde, Father-Knows-Best chair and matching ottoman, which no one actually ever sat in, as if knowing we were not worthy occupants. Wanting a father badly, asking my stepfather if I could call him Daddy. My mother made me ask him myself, but I wanted her to ask him for me!
They married when I was four, then went away to New York City – actually the Dick Van Dyke show suburb of New Rochelle – for a year, while I lived with my grandmother. My mother worked as an “executive” secretary for Norelco, and every time I saw the commercial with Santa riding the Norelco razor down the snowbank I swelled with pride.
I started kindergarten at four, Catholic school. Nursery school, kindergarten, and first grade with the Catholics. They say if they have you until age seven, they have you for life. Saint Teresa for Halloween! I came home, told Mommy I couldn’t wait to die and go to Heaven, so I could be with Jesus; pictures of Jesus taped to the headboard of my four-poster bed. Mommy said, “That’s enough Catholic school!” So public school for second grade.
Loving the families shown in black-and-white on TV, where the biggest problem was fighting over your curfew, getting a bad grade on a test, not being allowed to go to some party where, in the end, father knew best because some kids got in a car wreck either on the way there, or after.
Having a kitchen where there were no roaches living in the toaster, or the silverware drawer. Where I could ask my mother for advice, and not have it be wrong, not have it break my heart. Dreaming of and longing for a life of being saved and shepherded by your parents, like on TV. Trusting their wisdom. I wanted to trust mine.