Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in,
Bear’t that th’ opposed may beware of thee.
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice;
Take each man’s censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express’d in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
…
Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all- to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming. To he who actually strives to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.
Every day is one less day
every night another night
deep inside we wonder what it’s all
about if everything is so brief and light
every beach is another beach
until it is overtaken by the sea
and the four seasons make no
noise in corners of reality
every god is a god of nothing
who has been left without eternity
and in the meantime the birds fight
with the air as they learn to fly
every death is the death of another
and we forget them so as not to cry
but also there are those who / in innocence/
in bare feet cross on over to the other side
every day is one less day
every night another night
but as long as there are roses in sight
life is a celebration in which to delight.
Everything comes and everything goes but ours is to go, to go making roads over the ocean.
I never went after glory, nor to leave on the minds of men my song. I love the simple things, weightless and light, like soap bubbles.
I like to see them reflect the sun and the grain, float beneath the great blue sky, suddenly shake and then break.
I never went after glory…
Walking are your footsteps, the road and nothing more. Walking there is no road We make our road as we go.
As we go, we make our road and as we look back, See the road over which we will never again go. Walking there is no road, only the wake we leave as we go…
For a very long time and in the very same place the forests have been dressed in thorns. A poet was heard shouting: “Walking there is no road, we make our road as we go…” Blow by blow, verse by verse.
The poet died a long way from home. The dust of a neighboring nation covers his soul. When he left, they saw him cry: “Walking there is no road, we make our road as we go…” Blow by blow, verse by verse.
When the songbird can no longer sing, When the poet is a pilgrim, When not even praying helps: Walking there is no road, we make our road as we go… Blow by blow, verse by verse. Blow by blow, verse by verse. Blow by blow, verse by verse.
Make it a great day, unless of course, you have other plans…
This morning I awoke excited about all of the things I have to do today before the alarm went off. I am important and my job is to choose what kind of day I will have.
I can complain because it is raining… or I can give thanks because the plants are being watered.
I can feel sad because I don’t have more money… or I can be happy because my financial situation drives me to plan my purchases more intelligently.
I can complain about my health… or rejoice that I am alive.
I can feel sorry for what my parents didn’t give me when I was growing up… or I can be thankful to them for allowing me to be born.
I can cry because the roses have thorns… or I can celebrate that the thorns have roses.
I can feel sorry for myself because I don’t have many friends… or I can get excited and embark on an adventure to discover new relationships.
I can complain because I have to go to work… or I can shout with joy because I have a job.
I can complain because I have to go to school… or I can open my mind energetically and fill it with new, rich knowledge.
I can mutter bitterly because I have housework to do… or I can feel honored because I have a roof for my mind and my body.
The day presents itself before me, waiting for me to give it form, and here I am; I am the sculptor and on me it depends what kind of day I will have today.
Make it a great day unless, of course, you have other plans.
Distracted by the life which fills you. You have a heart, a brain, a soul, and a spirit; so how can you feel poor and wretched? Distracted by the life which surrounds you. Dolphins, forests, oceans, mountains, rivers.
Don’t fall into what your brother fell who suffers for one human being when there are more than 5.6 billion in the world, and besides, it’s not so bad living alone. I enjoy each moment deciding what I am going to do, and thanks to the solitude, I know myself, which is fundamental for living.
Don’t fall into what your father fell who feels old at 70, forgetting that Moises led the Exodus at 80, and Rubenstein played Chopin like nobody at 90, just to cite two known examples.
You’re not depressed, you’re distracted…
That’s why you think you lost something which is impossible because everything has been given to you. You didn’t make not even one single strand of hair on your head, and as such, can own nothing. Besides, life doesn’t take things away from you, it frees you from them, making you lighter so that you can fly higher and reach plentitude.
From the cradle to the coffin is a university. That’s why what you call problems are actually lessons. Life is dynamic, and that’s why it’s always in movement, and why you need only be aware of the present…
You didn’t lose anybody. Those who have died simply beat you to the punch, because we are all headed there. Besides, the best of them, their love, remains deep inside of you.
You can’t find happiness, and it’s so easy. You need only listen first to your heart before your head intervenes…
Do only what you love and you will be happy because those who love what they do are blessedly condemned to success, which must come when it will come, because what must be will be, and will come naturally.
Magical moments which make us quiver with pleasure and form an integral part of existence. Moments which become the motion pictures of our mind and are available 24/7 to anchor us to those experiences which confirm how marvelous it is to be on this incredible journey we call life.
Everyday moments in which consist our day to day and comprise a surprising number of our minutes, hours, and days. Moments which can be overlooked if we’re not paying attention to each instant; the flight of a bird, the intense color of a flower, the invisible air giving us life.
