To have and to hold
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Beautiful thoughts on life by one of my favorite authors- 

http://www.salon.com/2015/04/10/anne_lamott_shares_all_that_she_knows_everyone_is_screwed_up_broken_clingy_and_scared/


"Touched by an Angel"
by Maya Angelou

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.

Wisdom from Mary Oliver-
http://onbeing.org/program/mary-oliver-listening-to-the-world/7267
Samples from Bridget Collin's feed. Using flowers and natural materials to make art. 
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Morning Poem 
by Mary Oliver 
Every morning 
the world 
is created. 
Under the orange

sticks of the sun 
the heaped 
ashes of the night 
turn into leaves again

and fasten themselves to the high branches— 
and the ponds appear 
like black cloth 
on which are painted islands

of summer lilies. 
If it is your nature 
to be happy 
you will swim away along the soft trails

for hours, your imagination 
alighting everywhere. 
And if your spirit 
carries within it

the thorn 
that is heavier than lead— 
if it's all you can do 
to keep on trudging--

there is still 
somewhere deep within you 
a beast shouting that the earth 
is exactly what it wanted--

each pond with its blazing lilies 
is a prayer heard and answered 
lavishly, 
every morning,

whether or not 
you have ever dared to be happy, 
whether or not 
you have ever dared to pray.


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Words by Anne Sexton
Be careful of words, 
even the miraculous ones. 
For the miraculous we do our best, 
sometimes they swarm like insects 
and leave not a sting but a kiss. 
They can be as good as fingers. 
They can be as trusty as the rock 
you stick your bottom on. 
But they can be both daisies and bruises. 
Yet I am in love with words. 
They are doves falling out of the ceiling. 
They are six holy oranges sitting in my lap. 
They are the trees, the legs of summer, 
and the sun, its passionate face. 
Yet often they fail me. 
I have so much I want to say, 
so many stories, images, proverbs, etc. 
But the words aren't good enough, 
the wrong ones kiss me. 
Sometimes I fly like an eagle 
but with the wings of a wren. 
But I try to take care 
and be gentle to them. 
Words and eggs must be handled with care. 
Once broken they are impossible 
things to repair.

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