When we are full of appreciation for color, lines, texture, words, and motion, why can't we reflect it in our person, in our attire, in our eyes; why do we let an outward mold inconsistent with our inner thoughts blind others to our capacity for beauty?
When I meet a person I feel at home with, then all the others I have met who set me awry cease to be important. There are those you meet and you are so aware of their unspoken thoughts that you wonder where you have known each other before.
There's a time for staying home, for school, for marriage, for children, for growth of mind and spirit, but the time for falling in love is always.
The quietness of a beach cottage. No refrigerator, nor pressure sounds behind running water, no freezer, no washing machine, no toilet to flush—old settlers' cabins must have had that peace. Seems as though man-made noises react more on people than natural sounds—such as waves breaking, rain dripping, wind complaining, water moving. Unaware of the effect of combined "civilized" noises on our senses, when we walk into a quiet cottage, a falling away of tightness occurs and, after a few hours in such a place, we are refreshed, aware of eternity and space and natural textures.
I am tired of words being poured out—the radio, TV, news, interviews, magazines, 3rd class mail, newspapers, books—hard-covered and paper-backed—PTA notices, club reports! I sometimes feel as though they are filling the air and there is no clean air to breathe. Suffocated by words. Let me have the time to seek the words I want to hear and to read...to go back and pick out the words that are still living. Don't let today's flood keep me from the sweet spring rains of yesteryear.
Why not admit you know nothing—no one can know everything. Surely a teacher enjoys the honesty of his pupils who confess ignorance. Does he not relish his knowledge more when he can share it?
©2006 Robert Simmons. All Rights Reserved. [Email Me]