"Wading neck deep in a swamp, your revolver is neither use nor ornament until you have had time to clean it" Mary H. Kingsley (1897)

Waiting

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Serene, I fold my hands and wait,

Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea;

I rave no more ‘gainst time or fate,

For, lo! my own shall come to me.

 

I stay my haste, I make delays,

For what avails this eager pace?

I stand amid the eternal ways,

And what is mine shall know my face.

 

Asleep, awake, by night or day,

The friends I seek are seeking me;

No wind can drive my bark astray,

Nor change the tide of destiny.

 

What matter if I stand alone?

I wait with joy the coming years;

My heart shall reap where it hath sown,

And garner up its fruit of tears.

 

The waters know their own and draw

The brook that springs in yonder height;

So flows the good with equal law

Unto the soul of pure delight.

 

The stars come nightly to the sky;

The tidal wave unto the sea;

Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,

Can keep my own away from me.

John Burroughs (1837-1921)

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The opposite of talking isn’t listening. The opposite of talking is waiting.

Fran Lebowitz

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One response

  1. “Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,

    Can keep my own away from me.”

    I especially like these two lines …

    January 21, 2011 at 10:46 am

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