This is all you have. This is not a dry run. This is your life. If you want to fritter it away with your fears, then you will fritter it away, but you won’t get it back later.
Laura Schlessinger
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Like me, like you
Snowdrops
Find themselves stuck in hard places.
Hostile places.Like me, like you
They have an instinct to grow
And so they push against the frozen soil
And finally, unseen, pop out
Into the sunshine.Whereupon
Like me, like you
They are snowed on, iced over, pelted with hailstones,
Stung by driving rainYet still they grow
Until one day
When winter has long dragged on,
Far too long,
One day,
With a silent peal of soft, white bells
They suddenly appear, transformed.And look:
Their delightful presence is discreet
Their proud flowers, slightly bowed
They are not sunflowers, gloriously tall, shining out across the fields.
They have simply grown into
Themselves.
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Yet it is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top. Virginia Woolf
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What is your pen?
Your pen is not a magic wand.
Your pen is a conduit
An agent of change
A baton
To mark the time of your life
A sable brush
With which you’ll colour in
The future.
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There are very few human beings who receive the truth, complete and staggering, by instant illumination. Most of them acquire it fragment by fragment, on a small scale, by successive developments, cellularly, like a laborious mosaic. Anais Nin
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