You can stay here for now with your cousin Rosalind Lee. She’ll take good care of you.

Rest in Peace : Baby Girl Crisler

Then shall ye understand what is Truth, for ye shall understand yourselves

Freedom from Sorrow depends on freedom from impression.

The only correct and adequate mode of the attainment of understanding is to shut off and inhibit the rational mind altogether, thus leaving a Tabula Rasa upon which the entirely Alien faculty and sui generis can write its first word.

The Whole is Infinite Perfection, and so is each Unit thereof. To transcend the Trance of Sorrow is thus sufficient to cancel the subject of the contemplation by marrying it to its equal and opposite in imagination. We may also pursue the analytical method, and resolve the complex which appears Sorrow into its atoms. Each event of it is a sublime and joyous act of Love; or the synthetical method, proceeding from the part to the Whole, with a similar result.
And any one of the movements of the mind is (with assiduity and enthusiasm) capable of taking the Trance of Sorrow and transfixing itself into a
Trance of Wonder.

Sirs, you have no reason to be ashamed of your Confederate dead; see to it they have no reason to be ashamed of you.

Alpha Legion

I forgive you.

Based on true events…

What if it became common knowledge that the world would end in six years? Would people drop their weapons and embrace each other as brothers and sisters? Or would they destroy what would be for all intensive purpose this charade of life by pressing the BUTTON?

Deep in the human unconscious is a pervasive need for a logical universe that makes sense but the real universe is always one step beyond logic.

I remember springtime
I remember when it rained
I remember night time
The happiness and pain

I remember you
But I can’t remember love
When I do, when I do

I remember nature
And many other things
I remember Big Joe Turner
What he sounds like when he sings

I remember you
But I can’t remеmber love
When I do, when I do

Was it only yestеrday
Or many moons ago?
When I turned and walked away
Where, oh, where did it go?

I remember as a child
I played with kings and queens
I remember growing older
Losing childish things

I remember you
Yet, I want to remember love

And I do
And I do
And I do

Happiness doesn’t come from having things, it comes from being part of things.

And fare thee weel, my only luve!

And fare thee weel awhile!

And I will come again, my luve,

Though it were ten thousand mile.

But when from a long-distant past nothing subsists, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered, taste and smell alone, more fragile but more enduring, more unsubstantial, more persistent, more faithful, remain poised a long time, like souls, remembering, waiting, hoping, amid the ruins of all the rest; and bear unflinchingly, in the tiny and almost impalpable drop of their essence, the vast structure of recollection.