…yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From out dark spirits.
Let us away, my love, with happy speed;
There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,
– Drown’d all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead.
Awake! arise! my love and fearless be,
For o’er the southern moors I have a home for thee.
It keeps eternal whisperings around desolate shores
A thing of beauty is a joy forever.
Nothing ever becomes real ’til it is experienced.
If we could get our parents to read to their preschool children fifteen minutes a day, we could revolutionize the schools. DR. RUTH LOVE
… the open sky sits upon our senses like a sapphire crown – the Air is our robe of state – the Earth is our throne, and the Sea a mighty minstrel playing before it.
The Imagination may be compared to Adam’s dream–he awoke and found it truth.
As inscribed on John Keats’ tombstone:
contains all that was Mortal,
YOUNG ENGLISH POET,
on his Death Bed,
in the Bitterness of his Heart,
at the Malicious Power of his Enemies
these Words to be engraven on his Tomb Stone:
“Here lies One
Whose Name was writ in Water.”
Feb 24 1821
I have so much of you in my heart