Saturday, December 29, 2018
Saturday, December 22, 2018
Saturday, December 15, 2018
Saturday, December 8, 2018
Saturday, December 1, 2018
Saturday, November 24, 2018
Saturday, November 17, 2018
Saturday, November 10, 2018
Saturday, October 27, 2018
Saturday, October 20, 2018
Saturday, October 13, 2018
Saturday, October 6, 2018
Saturday, September 22, 2018
Saturday, September 15, 2018
Saturday, September 8, 2018
Saturday, September 1, 2018
Saturday, August 18, 2018
Saturday, August 11, 2018
Saturday, July 28, 2018
Saturday, July 14, 2018
Saturday, July 7, 2018
Saturday, June 30, 2018
Saturday, June 23, 2018
Saturday, June 16, 2018
Saturday, June 9, 2018
Saturday, June 2, 2018
Saturday, May 26, 2018
Saturday, April 21, 2018
Saturday, April 14, 2018
Saturday, April 7, 2018
Saturday, March 31, 2018
Saturday, March 24, 2018
Saturday, March 17, 2018
I don't really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds
or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of
praying, as you no doubt have yours.
Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible. I can sit
on the top of the dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds,
until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost
unhearable sound of the roses singing.
-- Mary Oliver
or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of
praying, as you no doubt have yours.
Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible. I can sit
on the top of the dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds,
until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost
unhearable sound of the roses singing.
-- Mary Oliver
Saturday, March 10, 2018
. . . The little sparrow
with the pink beak
calls out, over and over, so simply -- not to me
but to the whole world. All afternoon
I grow wiser, listening to him,
soft, small, nameless fellow at the top of some weed,
enjoying his life. If you can sing, do it. If not,
even silence can feel, to the world, like happiness,
like praise,
from the pool of shade you have found beside the everlasting.
-- Mary Oliver
Saturday, March 3, 2018
Saturday, February 24, 2018
Lilies -- as tall as ourselves and more lovely,
and full of fragrance, and long orange tongues,
and those playthings the bees -- stood in
a neighbor's yard, a thick, ramping
hedge of them. You could not help but see
that to be beautiful is also to be simple
and brief; is to rise up and be glorious, and then vanish;
is to be silent but as though a song was in you only it
hasn't yet been heard . . . .
-- Mary Oliver
Saturday, February 17, 2018
Saturday, February 10, 2018
Saturday, February 3, 2018
Saturday, January 27, 2018
Saturday, January 20, 2018
This music of heaven is not sound as we understand it. In it we can find rhythm, melody, harmony, and other aspects typical of music, but it cannot be heard. This music finds expression in the beauty of nature, the birth and death of stars and galaxies, and the simple dignity of human ideals.
-- Derek Lin
Saturday, January 13, 2018
Silence plays for you the song of serenity and the sounds of stillness without speakers or subwoofers, CD players or iPods, microphones or musical instruments. What is melody after all, but a series of notes framing the space between them? Perhaps it is as rock star Sting says: silence may well be the ultimate music.
-- Derek Lin
Saturday, January 6, 2018
Unless you believe in divine revelations, what I'm saying will sound like nonsense, but I believe that when God created the world, he created everything, so music is something that already exists. You just have to be very still and hear it. Plato believed that was the case. I'm not being over-pious if I say to God 'Guide me, help me.' It's a kind of prayer, so therefore writing music is a kind of prayer.
-- Sir John Tavener
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