Tuesday, February 23, 2010


Black Elk. "It may be that some little root of the sacred tree still lives. Nourish it that it may leaf and bloom and fill with singing birds." Hickman. "...the unquenchable nature of life... singing even in the dark hours." Mae Sarton had lost another friend and her memories were full of last goodbyes. "Never again would I push open the door and find Mildred with a cat sitting on the arm of her chair, her eyes bright, an open book in her lap. In two days all that had become history."
I walked to the underground library today and picked up "John Greenleaf Whittier, selected poems", "Columbus and Other Cannibals" by Forbes, "Everyday Committments" by Richo, and "Lady Windermere's Fan" by O. Wilde. Good reading tonight.

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