holiday

6/23/08




posted at 3:26 PM
Email ThisBlogThis!Share to XShare to FacebookShare to Pinterest

No comments:

Post a Comment

Newer Post Older Post Home
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)
I do not think I should care to go on worshiping a Madonna even if she did wink. One cannot make much out of a wink. We want something more than that from the object of our adoration. {Charles Spurgeon}
I was born to catch dragons in their dens, and pick flowers, to tell tales and laugh away the morning, to drift and dream like a lazy stream; and walk barefoot across sunshine days. {James Kavanaugh}
O Holy Spirit, descend plentifully into my heart. Enlighten the dark corners of this neglected dwelling and scatter there Thy cheerful beams. {St. Augustine}
I am an idealist. I don't know where I'm going but I'm on my way. {Sandburg}

My photo
holly darling smith
Portland, OR
My desire is to be haunted with joy. I want to rise on the wings of the dawn; I desire to walk slowly and bow often.
View my complete profile

Archives:

  • ►  2012 (1)
    • May (1)
  • ►  2011 (3)
    • April (2)
    • January (1)
  • ►  2010 (10)
    • October (1)
    • September (2)
    • July (1)
    • May (2)
    • March (1)
    • January (3)
  • ►  2009 (42)
    • December (1)
    • November (4)
    • October (4)
    • September (3)
    • August (5)
    • July (4)
    • June (3)
    • May (4)
    • April (5)
    • March (3)
    • February (3)
    • January (3)
  • ▼  2008 (55)
    • December (4)
    • November (2)
    • October (4)
    • September (4)
    • August (2)
    • July (6)
    • June (8)
    • May (2)
    • April (4)
    • March (5)
    • February (7)
    • January (7)
  • ►  2007 (7)
    • December (5)
    • November (2)

{Currently Reading}

  • Till We Have Faces
  • The Power of Words
  • The Practice of the Presence of God
  • No Little People
  • Six Questions of Socrates
  • The Reason for God
  • Plain Living: A Quaker Path to Simplicity
  • Under the Mercy

{Favorite Poets}

  • L'Engle
  • Oliver
  • T.S. Elliot
  • Dickinson
  • E.E. Cummings
  • Neruda

{Friends & Family}

  • family
  • chelsi
  • jen
  • melanie
  • adam
  • cunninghams
  • david
  • edmonds
  • alyssa
  • garveys
  • anna
  • olivares

{Others I Appreciate}

  • 1385
  • Kennedy Holmes
  • Elaine
  • Behind the Glass
  • Thinking Tank
  • Rhiannon Leifheit
  • Ann Marie
  • A Clock Without Hands
  • Roxanne
  • Hello Mr. Fox
  • Erin Laura
Sometimes I feel as though I were born in a circus, come out of my mother's womb like a man from a cannon, pitched toward the ceiling of the tent, all the doctors and nurses clapping in delight from the grandstands, the band going great guns in trombones and drums. I unfold and find flight hundreds of feet above the center ring, the smell of popcorn in the air, the clowns gather below, amazed at my grace, and all the people chanting my name as my arms come out like wings and I move swan-like towards the apex, where I draw my arms in, collapse my torso to my legs, roll over in perfection, then slowly give in to gravity. My body falls back toward earth, the ground coming up quick, the center ring growing enormous beneath my falling weight. And this is precisely when it occurs to me that there is no net. And I wonder, What is the use of a circus? and Why should a man bother to be shot out of a cannon? and Why is the crowd's applause so fleeting? and . . . Who is going to rescue me? [Donald Miller]
Watermark theme. Powered by Blogger.