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Merci de tes bons voeux. Meilleur solstice à toi aussi et à tous les tiens. Que les dieux te protègent.

Que celui qui sait réfléchisse
Que celui qui ignore apprenne

Dépouillée de tout ce qui faisait ma joie, la vie n’est que lassitude et douleur. Ainsi donc, j’ai essayé de retenir ce qui n’existe plus ; d’inventer le rêve d’une vie perdue. Et j’ai réussi trop de fois… ; et je me damnerai, peut-être, pour cela. Je serais bientôt mis en Jugement ; c'est-à-dire : compté, pesé, divisé (MENE, TEKEL, PERES, tu le sais…) ; prêt pour aller « mit dem Engel reden »…

La liberté de soi s'arrête là où commence celle des autres

After my first visit to Boston, I spent almost every winter in the North. Once I went on a visit to a New England village with its frozen lakes and vast snow fields. It was then that I had opportunities such as had never been mine to enter into the treasures of the snow.

I recall my surprise on discovering that a mysterious hand had stripped the trees and bushes, leaving only here and there a wrinkled leaf. The birds had flown, and their empty nests in the bare trees were filled with snow. Winter was on hill and field. The earth seemed benumbed by his icy touch, and the very spirits of the trees had withdrawn to their roots, and there, curled up in the dark, lay fast asleep. All life seemed to have ebbed away, and even when the sun shone the day was

Shrunk and cold,
As if her veins were sapless and old,
And she rose up decrepitly
For a last dim look at earth and sea.

The withered grass and the bushes were transformed into a forest of icicles.

Down by the river by the boats
Where everybody goes to be alone
Where you won’t see any rising sun
Down to the river we will run

When by the water we drink to the dregs
Look at the stones on the riverbed
I can tell from your eyes
You've never been by the Riverside

Down by the water the riverbed
Somebody calls you somebody says
swim with the current and float away
Down by the river everyday

Oh my God I see how everything is torn in the river deep
And I don't know why I go the way
Down by the Riverside

When that old river runs past your eyes
To wash off the dirt on the Riverside
Go to the water so very near
The river will be your eyes and ears

I walk to the borders on my own
To fall in the water just like a stone
Chilled to the marrow in them bones
Why do I go here all alone

Down by the Riverside

Qu'aucune heure ne s'écoule dont tu ne veuilles garder le souvenir.

Actually, time itself is neutral; it can be used either destructively or constructively. More and more I feel that the people of ill will have used time much more effectively than have the people of good will. We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people.

“Before the fruits of prosperity can come, the storms of life need to first bring the required rains of testing, which mixes with the seeds of wisdom to produce a mature harvest.”
- Lincoln Patz

Afrikaans

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