Category: Quotes and Poems

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I planned on writing a blog post today that was overwhelming and heart-wrenching in intensity and grandeur.  Then I was hit with…

THE HEAD COLD OF THE CENTURY!!!

And thus could write nothing at all since my head is full of…stuff and I have not managed to roll off my sofa for days.

As Robert Burns put it so gracefully, “The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men / Gang aft agley (often go awry).

And since he did put it gracefully, I thought I would share the poem from whence the phrase originates – “To A Mouse”.  This was written by Mr. Burns when he overturned the nest of a field mouse while out plowing one day.  I believe I feel like that mouse.  Or perhaps just the leavings of the horse pulling the plow.

P.S. – since I’m assuming you understand Burns’ Scottish dialect about as well as I do, I’m sharing this poem in the standard English translation.

 

To A Mouse

by Robert Burns

(standard English translation)

 

Small, crafty, cowering, timorous little beast,
O, what a panic is in your little breast!
You need not start away so hasty
With argumentative chatter!
I would be loath to run and chase you,
With murdering plough-staff.

I’m truly sorry man’s dominion
Has broken Nature’s social union,
And justifies that ill opinion
Which makes you startle
At me, your poor, earth born companion
And fellow mortal!

I doubt not, sometimes, but you may steal;
What then? Poor little beast, you must live!
An odd ear in twenty-four sheaves
Is a small request;
I will get a blessing with what is left,
And never miss it.

Your small house, too, in ruin!
Its feeble walls the winds are scattering!
And nothing now, to build a new one,
Of coarse grass green!
And bleak December’s winds coming,
Both bitter and keen!

You saw the fields laid bare and wasted,
And weary winter coming fast,
And cozy here, beneath the blast,
You thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel plough passed
Out through your cell.

That small bit heap of leaves and stubble,
Has cost you many a weary nibble!
Now you are turned out, for all your trouble,
Without house or holding,
To endure the winter’s sleety dribble,
And hoar-frost cold.

But little Mouse, you are not alone,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often awry,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!

Still you are blest, compared with me!
The present only touches you:
But oh! I backward cast my eye,
On prospects dreary!
And forward, though I cannot see,
I guess and fear!

 

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It’s feeling pretty autumnal here at the Palatial Horvath Estate and that makes me happy.
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It is a gorgeous day here at the Palatial Horvath Estate. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, the wind is warm, the forsythia is budding. It’s the kind of a spring day that makes you feel like spinning around in a circle with your hands held out while you sing “the hills are a-liiiiivvveee…”

 

Or maybe that’s just me.

 

So, being that it’s such a nice day, I thought I would share one of my very favorite poems by one of my very favorite poets – Emily Dickinson. I love her so much that I named one of my cats after her.

 

Enjoy!

 

“Hope” is the thing with feathers
by Emily Dickinson

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I’ve been thinking a lot about James Allen this week.

James Allen was a British philosophical writer, born in 1864. I stumbled across him originally when I found a quote from him on the back of a Celestial Seasonings tea box. As I continued reading his work, I found that a lot of what he wrote resonates with me.

So, because I’ve been thinking about him and what he had to say, I’d like to share some wisdom from James with you. These excerpts are from his best-known work,  “As A Man Thinketh”:

 

There is no way to strength and wisdom but by acting strongly and wisely in the present moment, and each present moment reveals its own task. The great man, the wise man does small things greatly regarding nothing as “trivial” that is necessary.

Little kindnesses, generosities, and sacrifices make up a kind and generous character. Little renunciations, endurances, and victories over self make up a strong and noble character. The truly honest man is honest in the minutest details of his life. The noble man is noble in every little thing he says and does.
It is a fatal delusion with men to think that life is detached from the momentary thought and act, and not to understand that the passing thought and deed is the foundation and substance of life. When this is fully understood all things are seen as sacred and every act becomes religious. Truth is wrapped up in infinitesimal details.

Man’s mind may be likened to a garden, which may be intelligently cultivated or allowed to run wild; but whether cultivated or neglected, it must, and will, bring forth. If no useful seeds are put into it, then an abundance of useless weed-seeds will fall therein and will continue to produce their kind.

Just as a gardener cultivates his plot, keeping it free from weeds, and growing the flowers and fruits which he requires, so may a man tend the garden of his mind, weeding out all the wrong, useless, and impure thoughts, and cultivating towards perfection the flowers and fruits of right, useful and pure thoughts. By pursuing this process, a man sooner or later discovers that he is the master-gardener of his soul, the director of his life.

Here is the full excerpt from the quote I found on the Celestial Seasonings box.  I’ve already shared it in another post, but this particular excerpt means a lot to me, and I wanted to include it again.

As you think, you travel; as you love, you attract. You are today where your thoughts have brought you; you will be tomorrow where your thoughts take you. You cannot escape the result of your thoughts, but you can endure and learn, can accept and be glad.

You will always come to the place where your love (your most abiding and intense thought) can receive its measure of gratification. If your love be base, you will come to a base place; if it be beautiful, you will come to a beautiful place. You can alter your thoughts, and so alter your condition. Strive to perceive the vastness and grandeur of your responsibility. You are powerful, not powerless. You are as powerful to obey as you are to disobey; as strong to be pure as to be impure; as ready for wisdom as for ignorance. You can learn what you will, can remain as ignorant as you choose. If you love knowledge you will obtain it; if you love wisdom you will secure it; if you love purity you will realize it. All things await your acceptance, and you choose by the thoughts which you entertain.”

Thank you, James.

 

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In celebration of the first significant snowfall since October at The Palatial Horvath Estate, I thought I would share one of my favorite snow poems, “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost.

The thing I love best about Frost’s poems is that on the surface they sound all folksy and wholesome, but if you think about them a little more, they go so much deeper.

I hope you enjoy it!