Both within the family and without, our sisters hold up our mirrors: our images of who we are and of read more

Both within the family and without, our sisters hold up our mirrors: our images of who we are and of who we can dare to be.

I had seen the great, but I had not seen the small.
[Fr., J'avais vu les grands, mais je read more

I had seen the great, but I had not seen the small.
[Fr., J'avais vu les grands, mais je n'avais pas vu les petits.]

Ignorance is always afraid of change.

Ignorance is always afraid of change.

Change is an easy panacea. It takes character to stay in one place and be happy there.

Change is an easy panacea. It takes character to stay in one place and be happy there.

The family is the first essential cell of human society.

The family is the first essential cell of human society.

If we don't change, we don't grow. If we don't grow, we aren't really living.

If we don't change, we don't grow. If we don't grow, we aren't really living.

We are not the same persons this year as last; nor are those we love. It is a happy chance read more

We are not the same persons this year as last; nor are those we love. It is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person.

Whose foot is on the treadle/That turns the burning stars/Has spun the world half way round/Since last I called/Come down, read more

Whose foot is on the treadle/That turns the burning stars/Has spun the world half way round/Since last I called/Come down, come down.
That stars that in September/Looked through the mournful rain/Now set their sight again/Upon a world half night, half light
Men of distant years have said/That much depends on change of seasons/On solstices and equinox/And they have given reasons.
I disagree./Too much turns on inadvertence/On what seems to be/An accident of hand and knee/A chance sunrise/A glance of eyes.

Men do change, and change comes like a little wind that ruffles the curtains at dawn, and it comes like read more

Men do change, and change comes like a little wind that ruffles the curtains at dawn, and it comes like the stealthy perfume of wildflowers hidden in the grass. -John Steinbeck.