Brian Andreas

"I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand & the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you lie close against me while you sleep. There are no words for that."

Brian Andreas (Story People)

Lewis Carroll

"I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says "Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again."

Lewis Carroll (Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass)

George Carlin

‎"I don't have pet peeves - I have major psychotic fucking hatreds." - George Carlin

Dean Koontz

"God is never cruel. There is a reason for all things. We must know the pain of loss; because if we did not, we would have no compassion for others, would become monsters of self-regard, creatures of unalloyed self-interest. The pain of loss teaches humility to our prideful kind, has the power to soften uncaring hearts, to make a better person of a good one."

Dean Koontz

The language of love

Caramel skin.
Devour him with your eyes;
drink in the sight of him.
Swallow him whole.

(c) 2008 all rights reserved.

Kirsten Dewar

Words. Roll them on your tongue. Swirl them around your mouth. Breathe them in. Taste them: the rich vibrant golds and greens, the colours of jealousy and fealty; the yellows, friendship distilled, bottled sunshine; the seething, vengeful reds; passionate plum; the shy and retiring grays. Pause. Close your eyes. Study the pictures on the inside of your lids. Look at them closely. Do they whisper, and nudge and call out to be spoken? Consider their sound. Tease out each each syllable. Do the nerves grate? Can you feel the muscles in your back tense? Check your hands. Are they cold and clammy? Hot and sudoriferous? Are your palms open wide, or fisted balls? Would these words tease, tempt, tantalise, sending a frisson of what could only be sheer delight down the receiver’s spine? Or are they sharp, jagged, meant to hurt and harm? Are they royal orchid, or common garden variety? Were they nurtured in love, or deceit? Can they, should they live an existence independent of their speaker? Remember: words once spoken, cannot be recalled. Finally, having considered all these things, exhale: breath them into life. Speak. Give them voice.

(c) 2008 all rights reserved.

Kirsten Dewar

The inspiration for this poem was a seed pod I found while wondering around in Kirstenbosch Gardens last winter. To me it looked exactly like a little hedgehog - and the inspiration kind of flowed from there.

Farthing Wood

Quilled hirsuteness,
hard, spiky, brown.
Solitary, nocturnal, pin cushion
barbed, bristling ball at sudden sound.

Hedge-grown, cartilaginous rodent,
bashful, and bowed:
soft, silken centre,
Nature’s mohawk, avowed!

[c]2008, all rights reserved.

Gordon B. Hinckley

"Love is the very essence of life. It is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Yet it is not found only there. Love is at the beginning also, and from it springs the beauty that arches across the sky on a stormy day. Love is the security for which children weep, the yearning of youth, the adhesive that binds marriage, the peace of old age, the sunlight of hope .. "

Gordon B. Hinckley

Max Lucado

"Flirt. Giggle. Dip your cookies in your milk. Take a nap. Say you're sorry if you hurt someone. Chase a butterfly. Be a child again."

Max Lucado

"This is just who I am to other people. And you became other people ... "
#Iwrotethisforyou #randomthoughts