HereYou always belonged here. You were theirs, certain as a rock. I’m the one who worriesif I fit in with the furniture and the landscape. But I “follow too muchthe devices and desires of my own heart.” Already the curves in the roadare familiar to me, and the mountainin all kinds of light, treating all people the same.and when I come over the hill, I see the house, with its generous and firm proportions, smokerising gaily from the chimney. I feel my life start up again, like a cutting when it growsthe first pale and tentativeroot hair in a glass of water. . Jane Kenyon
Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy–the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only...
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Unknown
She didn't belong anywhere and she never really belonged to anyone. And everyone else belonged somewhere and to someone. People thought she was too wonderful. But she only wanted to belong to someone. People always thought she was too wonderful to belong to them or...
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C. Joybell C.
They must live outside class, without relations or money; they must work and stick to each other till death. But England belonged to them. That, besides companionship, was their reward. Her air and sky were theirs, not the timorous millions' who own stuffy little boxes,...
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E.m. Forster
Later, you told me what your mother had said. How your father, the farmer, rose up slowly. You told me how your mother wailed on the other end of the phone, grieving her loss and complaining about the basketball of a goitre perched on her...
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Jon Gresham
It was a great mistake, my being born a man, I would have been much more successful as a seagull or a fish. As it is, I will always be a stranger who never feels at home, who does not really want and is not...
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Eugene ONeill
More Quotes By Jane Kenyon
The poet's job is to put into words those feelings we all have that are so deep, so important, and yet so difficult to name, to tell the truth in such a beautiful way, that people cannot live without it.
HappinessThere's just no accounting for happiness, or the way it turns up like a prodigalwho comes back to the dust at your feethaving squandered a fortune far away. And how can you not forgive? You make a feast in honor of whatwas lost, and take...
To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoopin the oats, to air in the lunglet evening come. Let it come, as it will, and don'tbe afraid. God does not leave uscomfortless, so let evening come.
Reading Aloud to My Father I chose the book haphazardfrom the shelf, but with Nabokov's firstsentence I knew it wasn't the thingto read to a dying man: The cradle rocks above an abyss, it began, and common sense tells us that our existenceis but a...
OtherwiseI got out of bed on two strong legs. It might have been otherwise. I ate cereal, sweet milk, ripe, flawless peach. It might have been otherwise. <span style="margin:15px; display:block"></span>I took the dog uphill to the birch wood. All morning I did the work I...
