Quote – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Then indecision brings its own delays,
And days are lost lamenting over lost days.
Are you in earnest? Seize this very minute:
What you can do, or dream you can, begin it;
Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.
Only engage and then the mind grows heated;
Begin and then the work will be completed.

– Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Quote – Bernard Edmonds

To dream anything that you want to dream. That is the beauty of the human mind.
To do anything that you want to do. That is the strength of the human will.
To trust yourself to test your limits. That is the courage to suceed.

– Bernard Edmonds

Depression Reigns

We live in a world where no one really cares

Tell me, friend, do you know what’s going on in the life of the guy next to you on the train, the lady who’s staring right at you, into space

A co-existence vested in shallow desires wants and needs and an aggression that masks your feelings of meaninglessness

If you fell off the face of the earth today how long would it take for your presence to be replaced – how long before the people you love, work with, whom you’ve yet to meet, move on

What forced purpose do you try to adopt in your life to justify the waste of resources and everything that is beautiful in this world to support you in your spiral into death

A spiral that begins the day you are born or perhaps even when you are first conceived; an inevitable truth, the one truth that supremes and trumps all else

A farce this is. A long arduous pointless descent into oblivion.

©️ Sharon Kaur-Schuelke 

“Sonnet 40”

Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all:
What hast thou then more than thou hadst before?
No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call—
All mine was thine before thou hadst this more.
Then if for my love thou my love receivest,
I cannot blame thee for my love thou usest;
But yet be blamed if thou this self deceivest
By wilful taste of what thyself refusest.
I do forgive thy robb’ry, gentle thief,
Although thou steal thee all my poverty;
And yet love knows it is a greater grief
To bear love’s wrong than hate’s known injury.
Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows,
Kill me with spites, yet we must not be foes.

– William Shakespeare, “Sonnet 40”

“Sonnet 65”

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea
But sad mortality o’er-sways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
O, how shall summer’s honey breath hold out
Against the wrackful siege of batt’ring days,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Nor gates of steel so strong, but time decays?
O fearful meditation! where, alack,
Shall time’s best jewel from time’s chest lie hid?
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?
Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?
O, none, unless this miracle have might,
That in black ink my love may still shine bright.

– William Shakespeare, “Sonnet 65”

“The Road Not Taken”

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

– Robert Frost, “The Road Not Taken”