.....How dear you will be to me then, you nights of anguish. Why didn't I kneel more deeply to accept you, inconsolable sisters, and, surrendering, lose myself in your loosened hair? How we squander our hours of pain. How we gaze beyond them into the bitter duration to see if they have an end. Though they are really seasons of us, our winter-enduring foliage, ponds, meadows, our inborn landscape, where birds and reed-dwelling creatures are at home.
Eavan Boland - If I defer the grief I will diminish the gift.
Carola Speads - We live in a breathless culture.
From the book Lady of the Lotus by William Barrett: from the Vedas.
I have a son,
I owe a debt to my son,
To the children of my son,
And to their children.
Each gift that I give,
I give many times;
To my son,
To the children of my son,
And to their children.
I must take care,
That I give no evil,
For the evil will be multiplied.
The seeds of my example,
Shall grow into trees in their lives.
I would give a fair forest,
To my son,
To the children of my son,
And to their children,
I pray that this may be.