Changing the wheel I sit by the roadsideThe driver changes the wheel.I do not like the place I have come from.I do not like the place I am going to.Why with impatience do IWatch him changing the wheel? (Bertolt Brecht) About the author Bertolt Brecht (1898-1956) was a German poet, playwright and theatre director who… Mehr lesen "Changing the wheel by Bertolt Brecht
When you’re here From here, oh,you can hold yourself,so you can laugh. Free to exploreall manner of things. When you’re here,an i in the O-cean,you’re no longer waitingfor something to happen or to change. When you’re hereyou have what you seek. Your heart opensto the gift you receive,that you are. You are drinking at the… Mehr lesen "The Well of Being by Jean-Pierre Weill
Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening Whose woods these are I think I know.His house is in the village though;He will not see me stopping hereTo watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queerTo stop without a farmhouse nearBetween the woods and frozen lakeThe darkest evening of… Mehr lesen "Stopping by the woods by Robert Frost
Bluebird there’s a bluebird in my heart thatwants to get outbut I’m too tough for him,I say, stay in there, I’m not goingto let anybody seeyou. there’s a bluebird in my heart thatwants to get outbut I pour whiskey on him and inhalecigarette smokeand the whores and the bartendersand the grocery clerksnever know thathe’sin there.… Mehr lesen "Bluebird
the radical moveis to enter each dayas a constant nowfree from the clawsof then and nextso you may take the open handof the momentnerved with pure being Maria Popova (2025, An Almanac of Birds) About the author Maria Popova is a Bulgarian-American essayist, cultural critic and poet who has built a devoted following through her… Mehr lesen "The radical move by Maria Popova
Late Fragment And did you get whatyou wanted from this life, even so?I did.And what did you want?To call myself beloved, to feel myselfbeloved on the earth. Raymond Carver (1994, A New Path to the Waterfall) About the author Raymond Carver (1938-1988) wrote his first story on a kitchen table while his two young children… Mehr lesen "Late fragment
A psalm of life Tell me not, in mournful numbers,Life is but an empty dream!For the soul is dead that slumbers,And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest!And the grave is not its goal;Dust thou art, to dust returnest,Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,Is our… Mehr lesen "A psalm of life
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,Silence the pianos and with muffled drumBring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overheadScribbling on the sky the message ‘He is Dead’.Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,Let the traffic policemen… Mehr lesen "Funeral blues
I walked a mile with Pleasure;She chatted all the way;But left me none the wiserFor all she had to say. I walked a mile with Sorrow,And ne’er a word said she;But, oh! The things I learned from her,When sorrow walked with me. [Robert Browning Hamilton] About the author Robert Browning Hamilton was an American writer… Mehr lesen "Along the road
Don’t ask, it’s wrong to know,what fates the gods us bestow. Don’t seek for answers in stars divine,endure and let your heart align. Winters come, or this our last,waves against the rocks are cast. Pour your wine, drink it slow,let your hopes ebb and go. Time flows as we speak,seize today, tomorrow’s far and bleak.… Mehr lesen "Carpe Diem (Ode on Fate, Horace 1:11)
