jodyangel:
"The silence of a flower: a kind of silence which we continually evade, of which we find only the shadow in dreams."
jodyangel:
We lay there & looked up at the night sky & she told me about stars called blue squares & red swirls & I told her I'd never heard of them. Of course not, she said, the really important stuff they never tell you. You have to imagine it on your own.
jodyangel:
"It's hardest to love the ordinary things, she said, but you get lots of opportunities to practice."
jodyangel:
“I walked beside the evening sea and dreamed a dream that could not be; the waves that plunged along the shore said only: "Dreamer, dream no more!”
jodyangel:
“Sweet is the memory of distant friends! Like the mellow rays of the departing sun, it falls tenderly, yet sadly, on the heart.”
jodyangel:
Arranging a bowl of flowers in the morning can give a sense of quiet in a crowded day - like writing a poem, or saying a prayer.
jodyangel:
“Every heart has its secret sorrows which the world knows not, and often times we call a man cold, when he is only sad”
jodyangel:
"...Wrapped tightly against a chill wind she just remembered from a long time ago & no amount of current time & temperature can help this one ..."
jodyangel:
“Doubtless God could have made a better berry (than the strawberry), but doubtless God never did”
jodyangel:
This is a story that usually I write in white ink, but most people miss it & start to read too much into it...
jodyangel:
“It is sweet to dance to violins, When Love and Life are fair:/ To dance to flutes, to dance to lutes, Is delicate and rare:/ But it is not sweet with nimble feet, To dance upon the air!”
jodyangel:
. W H I T E . I have loved flowers that fade, Within those magic tents. Rich hues have marriage made, With sweet unmemoried scents.
