Writings of The Soul

[BigWave]

Scrounger has suggested that I start this post for PAers. I start it with an insert (there's more) of an incredibly beautiful writing from Mrs Dalloway (Virginia Woolf) which I have lived with (not as an artist but as an engineer) for 40+ years. I can never forget it's beauty. Please post similar.

So on a summers day waves collect, overbalance, and fall; and the whole world seems to be saying that is all more and more ponderously, until even the heart in the body which lies in the sun on the beach says too, That is all. Fear no more, says the heart. Fear no more, says the heart, committing its burden to some sea, which sighs collectively for all sorrows, and renews, begins, collects, lets fall. And the body alone listens to the passing bee; the wave breaking; the dog barking, far away barking and barking.

 

[Guest]

The diarist and letter-writers, the gossips and jornalists of the past, the Pepyses and Horace Walpoles and Saint-Siimons, whose function it is to reveal to us the littleness underlying great events and remind us that history itself was once real life.

Lytton Strachey.

 

[SCROUNGER]

"Let us not take for granted that life exists more fully in what is commonly thought big than in what is commonly thought small"
V. Wooolf

 

[SCROUNGER]

'what does the brain matter compared with the soul"
Virginai Woolf Mrs Dalloway

 

[silver]

I suffer not the burden of this mind, made manifest before me in myriad ways, though time has been kind in some respects ,I feel that soon enough the physicality of this morose shell should ovetake the placated internals wherein I dwell, then surely hard will fall the world within that surrounds me ,... only then will I be forced to peer without !
Silver.

 

[SCROUNGER]

Wonderful silver

 

[BigWave]

It's happening to me already Silver. Just a long way of saying it I'll now exit from this post, but will follow keenly.

 

[mardymoose]

Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.
V Woolf

 

[casper]

Alas, the frailty is to blame, not we!
For such as we are made of, such we be.....

....Bill Shakespeare

 

[SCROUNGER]

"What did a deer ever do to you?"
"Nothing"
"I'm serious. What do you have to go and kill them for?"
"I can't explain it talking like this."
"Why should they die for you? Would you die for deer?"
"If it came to that."

The heart of the game- Thomas McGuane

 

[SCROUNGER]

"If you can walk with the crowd and keep your virtue, or walk with Kings-nor lose the common touch; If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; If all men count with you; but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute with 60 seconds worth of distance run- Yours is the earth and everything that's in it, And-which is more-you'll be a man my son."

Rudyard Kipling- A father's advice to his son.

 

[casper]

"If you can walk with the crowd and keep your virtue, or walk with Kings-nor lose the common touch; If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; If all men count with you; but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute with 60 seconds worth of distance run- Yours is the earth and everything that's in it, And-which is more-you'll be a man my son."

Rudyard Kipling- A father's advice to his son.

It's one of my favorites too...

here is the more wordy version http://www.kiplingsociety.co.uk/poems_if.htm

 

[SCROUNGER]

Thanks Casper. I wish i could open my shoulders and produce the flow of words that is so characteristic of both Woolf and Kipling, and quite a few others as well by the way :lol: :lol: :lol:

 

[Guest]

Those days of old, those days of gold

When every man with pick and pan could make his stake: when an ounce a day was very poor pay. And looked much like a fake; when sardines, with pork and beans, which every man could bake; made up a feast not fed back east.

Charles Peters from The good luck Era.

 

[rocketaroo]

"If you can walk with the crowd and keep your virtue, or walk with Kings-nor lose the common touch; If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; If all men count with you; but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute with 60 seconds worth of distance run- Yours is the earth and everything that's in it, And-which is more-you'll be a man my son."

Rudyard Kipling- A father's advice to his son.

its not true love, if your invulnerable to hurt. So a real man is incapable of true love?

 

[silver]

"If you can walk with the crowd and keep your virtue, or walk with Kings-nor lose the common touch; If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; If all men count with you; but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute with 60 seconds worth of distance run- Yours is the earth and everything that's in it, And-which is more-you'll be a man my son."

Rudyard Kipling- A father's advice to his son.

its not true love, if your invulnerable to hurt. So a real man is incapable of true love?

:lol:

https://www.google.com.au/search?si...p..2.18.3044.3..41j0i131j0i131i70.BUNV7lYZ7WU

 

[SCROUNGER]

An excerpt from a gem titled THE OLD AUSTRALIAN WAYS by one of our favourite Australian sons.
Andrew Barton (Banjo) Paterson

Our fathers came of roving stock
that could not fixed abide:
And we have followed field and flock
Since e'er we learnt to ride;
by miner's camp and shearing shed.
In land of heat and drought,
We followed where our fortunes led,
With fortune always on ahead
And always further out.

 

[BigWave]

Very nice that one. Paints a very strong image!

 

[SCROUNGER]

from THE ROARING DAYS by Henry Lawson

Oh, who would paint a goldfield,
And limn the picture right,
As we have often seen it
In early morning's light;
The yellow mounds of mullock
With spots of red and white,
The scattered quartz that glistened
Like diamonds in the light;
The azure lines of ridges,
The bush of darkest green,
The little homes of calico
That dotted all the scene.

I hear the fall of timber
From distant flats and fells,
The pealing of the anvils
As clear as little bells,
The rattle of the cradle,
The clack of windlass-boles,
The flutter of the crimson flags
Above the golden holes.

 

[Tathradj]

An Extract from
C.J. Dennis,
" The Mooch Of Life "
.
Life's wot yeh make it; an' the bloke 'oo tries
To grab the shinin' stars frum out the skies
Goes crook on life, an' calls the world a cheat,
An' tramples on the daisies at 'is feet.

But when the moon comes creepin' o'er the hill,
An' when the mopoke calls along the creek,
I takes me cup o' joy an' drinks me fill,
An' arsts meself wot better could I seek.

An' ev'ry song I 'ear the thrushes sing
That everlastin' message seems to bring;
An' ev'ry wind that whispers in the trees
Gives me the tip there ain't no joys like these:

Livin' an' loving wand'rin' on yeh way;
Reapin' the 'arvest of a kind deed done;
An' watching in the sundown of yer day,
Yerself again, grown nobler in yer son.

Knowin' that ev'ry coin o' kindness spent
Bears interest in yer 'eart at cent per cent;
Measurin' wisdom by the peace it brings
To simple minds that values simple things.

An' when I take a look along the way
That I 'ave trod, it seems the man knows best,
Who's met wiv slabs of sorrer in 'is day,
When 'e is truly rich an' truly blest.