The Sublime Roundabout

Yep.

You're welcome. Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy When you're riding in a time machine way far into the future, don't stick your elbow out the window, or it'll turn into a fossil. If you were a pirate, you know what would be the one thing that would really make you mad? Treasure chests with no handles. How the hell are you supposed to carry it?! Better not take a dog on the space shuttle, because if he sticks his head out when you're coming home his face might burn up. If you're a horse, and someone gets on you, and falls off, and then gets right back on you, I think you should buck him off right away. If a kid asks where rain comes from, I think a cute thing to tell him is "God is crying." And if he asks why God is crying, another cute thing to tell him is "Probably because of something you did." The first thing was, I learned to forgive myself. Then, I told myself, "Go ahead and do whatever you want, it's okay

Perhaps we were not meant to glut on our immediate appetites and passions and desires, but rather bring them into subjection to our will, finding strength in the discipline, and greater satisfaction when the meal does arrive. I hope so, anyway.

I love to read. I love the thoughts of others as they march across the pages - or screens. The words enter my eyes and enlarge my soul. I feel the swellings of the warmth and light thus imparted, and I relish in it. I love cleverness and witticisms. But I crave the deep insights into the human condition that I find when I read. And I love to share these insights with others. How rare it is to find someone with whom one can share. Share everything. Everything. Perhaps too rare. I wonder if I will ever really find it. I sometimes feel as though I am alone on an island filled with great treasures of unimaginable worth, and I want so much to share them. To turn to that someone and marvel together at the majesty and wonder. Sigh.

“Death needn’t really concern you; while you exist, death doesn’t; when death comes, you’re no more.” Excerpt From: Aleksandr I. Solzhenitsyn. “In the First Circle.” HarperCollins. iBooks. 

At Lagoon today with my daughter and a couple of her friends. Yep. This is what fun is.

It is not the gratification of desires That brings such sweet joy But the culmination of hopes and fears The burning anticipation Finally realized I hope I can always hope.

I woke up that morning very, deliciously, slowly. My first awareness was of the gentlest possible of breezes coming from the open window. The breeze was warm and soft, like a feather without the tickle. Just barely noticeable. If I had been moving, I would have missed it entirely. On the breeze wafted the smells of the City of Lights. Fresh bread. Fresh flowers. Fresh coffee. It was a day renewed, and everything feels ready for the day's adventures. There are sounds, too, associated with this most European of capitals - perhaps even the capital of Europe. It's a city, and a big one, full of life and people and needs and wants and desires. It must be fed. It must be cleaned. And it must go on carrying the people in its ark-like embrace. The first sound I hear is close by - the thin, gauzy curtains rasp across the window sill. Then I hear the sounds of people walking the narrow streets below, some hurrying, others more methodical, some sharp and dressy and formal, others he