Children's "Ark of Friends"

|:|:|

~ In art ~
The hand can never execute anything,
Higher than the heart can inspire.
--Ralph Waldo Emerson--
note: Boyd's best two friends are his Dachshunds.

Mother III Ducks

:::

O tower of light:
sad beauty that magnified necklaces
and statues in the sea,
calcareous eye, insignia of the vast waters,
cry of the mourning petrel, tooth of the sea,
wife of the Oceanian wind.
O separate rose from the long stem of the trampled bush,
that the depths converted into archipelago.
O natural star, green diadem, alone in your lonesome dynasty,
still unattainable, elusive, desolate__
like one drop, like one grape, like the sea.
by Pablo Neruda

Dime Store: Cuts

=?=

"You have brains in your head... & feet in your shoes.

You can steer yourself__ any direction you choose!"

~Dr. Seuss~

Short's Summer's End's

@

To fill the hour... that is happiness!
--rwEmerson--

May's Applette, LLC

***

But in the mud and scum of things,
There always, always something sings!

--Ralph Waldo Emerson-- 

OuterGlass.spc

[#]

The Greeks said grandly in their tragic phrase,
'Let no one be called happy... till his death;'
To which I would add,
'Let no one, till his death, be called unhappy!'
-as well: Elizabeth B. Browning-

La'le~Fa'ne

=|=

God's gifts put man's best dreams... to shame.
~ebBrowning~

`quErk`

Q

"We do what we must, and call it by the best names."
orange again: Emerson

Will'a-bud

-|||-

A voice said: Look... me in the stars!
And tell me truly, men of earth,
If all the soul-and-body scars
Were not too much to pay for birth?
~Robert Frost~

3|Bears

[]
"To-morrow(1), and to-morrow(2), and to-morrow(3),

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more:

it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury...signifying nothing." --From Macbeth (V, v, 19)--

^ -Cylon Ping- ^

*...*
What the imagination.. seizes as beauty.. must be truth?
&
It appears to me that almost any man__ may like the spider spin,
from his own inwards... his own airy citadel. __an' both: by J.Keats.

Dogseed.woo

oro pix

~.~

Each man has his own vocation. The talent is the call. There is one direction in which all space is open to him. He has faculties silently inviting him thither to endless exertion. ... He inclines to do something which is easy to him and good when it is done, but which no other man can do. He has no rival. For the more truly he consults his own powers, the more difference will his work exhibit from the work of any other.-- Series I. Spiritual Laws-- rwE

Pressure Test (&) Misfits

~
"The essence of all beauty, I call love.
The attribute, the evidence, and end.
The consummation to the inward sense,
Of beauty apprehended from without___
I still call love."
~Elizabeth Barrett Browning~
(& loved Robert)