Posted by: Elisabetta
The world is a book. Who doesn't travel only reads a page of it.
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The world is a book. Who doesn't travel only reads a page of it.
In time I loved You,
oh beauty, so ancient yet so novel,
In time I loved you.
And here You were within and I was without and there
I sought, casting myself, ugly,
on these beautiful things You created.
You were with me,
but I wasn't with You:
I kept creatures well afar,
that, hadn't they been in You, wouldn't be.
You beckoned me,
crying, winning my deafness,
bolting, flashing,
losing my blindness.
You scattered Your scent,
I inhaled it and yearned for You.
I tasted you and now I feel hunger and thirst.
You touched me and I now burn in the desire of your peace.
Those who've left us aren't absent, they're invisible, they keep their eyes full of glory fixed in ours full of tears.
Do you wish to be big?
Then start by being small.
Do you want to erect a building that can reach the sky?
Start by buiding humble foudations.
Give me a heart that loves and will understand what I say... of course, should I speak to an arid heart it shan't understand.
Words weren't invented so that men could trick themselves but that they may pass on to each other the bliss of their thoughts.
And men go to contemplate the peaks of mountains, the vast billows of the sea, the vast currents of the rivers, the immensity of the ocean, the course of stars, and don't think about themselves.
Teach me kindness inspiring charity, teach me discipline giving me patience and teach me science enlightening my mind.
You must mind two perils: from desperation with no escape and from unfounded hope.
When man speaks he can be observed by the movement of the limbs and listened to in his speech: but how can you penetrate his thought and how can you get to his heart? Who will ever understand what burdens he carries inside him. What really interests him, what he faces in his intimity, what he does or doesn't want?