Friendship Day Quotes

"Your friend is the man who knows all about you, and still likes you."
Friendship Day Quotes by: Elbert Hubard

"True friendship is like sound health; the value of it is seldom known until it be lost."
Friendship Day Quotes by: Charles Caleb Colton

"Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born."
Friendship Day Quotes by: Anais Nin

"My friends are my estate."
Friendship Day Quotes by: Emily Dickinson

"A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out."
Friendship Day Quotes by: Walter Winchell

"A friend is someone who is there for you when he'd rather be anywhere else."
Friendship Day Quotes by: Len Wein

"A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart, and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words."
Friendship Day Quotes by: Unknown

"A friend is one who believes in you when you have ceased to believe in yourself."
Friendship Day Quotes by: Unknown

"Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow.
Don't walk behind me, I may not lead.
Walk beside me and be my friend."
Friendship Day Quotes by: Albert Camus (also attributed to Maimonidies).

"A hug is worth a thousand words. A friend is worth more."
Friendship Day Quotes by: Unknown

"Everyone is a friend, until they prove otherwise."
Friendship Day Quotes by: Unknown

"Every person is a new door to a different world."
Friendship Day Quotes by: from movie "Six Degrees of Seperation"

"It takes a long time to grow an old friend."
Friendship Day Quotes by: John Leonard

"I get by with a little help from my friends."
Friendship Day Quotes by: John Lennon

"Anybody can sympathise with the sufferings of a friend, but it requires a very fine nature to sympathise with a friend's success."
Friendship Day Quotes by: Oscar Wilde

"Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up."
Friendship Day Quotes by: Bible: Ecclesiastes

"Two may talk together under the same roof for many years, yet never really meet; and two others at first speech are old friends."
Friendship Day Quotes by: Mary Catherwood

"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather is one of those things that give value to survival."
Friendship Day Quotes by: C. S. Lewis

"I might give my life for my friend, but he had better not ask me to do up a parcel."
Friendship Day Quotes by: Logan Pearsall Smith

"Friends are the most important ingredient in this recipe of life."
Friendship Day Quotes by: Unknown

"The better part of one's life consists of his friendships."
Friendship Day Quotes by: Abraham Lincoln

"The love of my life is the love between friends."
Friendship Day Quotes by: Unknown

"One's best friend is oneself."
Friendship Day Quotes by: Unknown

"A Friend is someone who knows all about you and loves you anyway!!!"
Friendship Day Quotes by: Unknown

"To be depressed is to be lonely; to have a friend is to be happy..."
Friendship Day Quotes by: Guido

Friendship is like a perennial river which flows forever. It may change it's path but will never ever dry up.
Friendship Day Quote Contributed by: Pinaki Prasad Mohanty

The Cocoon by Robert Frost

As far as I can see this autumn haze
That spreading in the evening air both way,
Makes the new moon look anything but new,
And pours the elm-tree meadow full of blue,
Is all the smoke from one poor house alone
With but one chimney it can call its own;
So close it will not light an early light,
Keeping its life so close and out of sign
No one for hours has set a foot outdoors
So much as to take care of evening chores.
The inmates may be lonely women-folk.
I want to tell them that with all this smoke
They prudently are spinning their cocoon
And anchoring it to an earth and moon
From which no winter gale can hope to blow it,--
Spinning their own cocoon did they but know it.

Our Singing Strength by Robert Frost

It snowed in spring on earth so dry and warm
The flakes could find no landing place to form.
Hordes spent themselves to make it wet and cold,
And still they failed of any lasting hold.
They made no white impression on the black.
They disappeared as if earth sent them back.
Not till from separate flakes they changed at night
To almost strips and tapes of ragged white
Did grass and garden ground confess it snowed,
And all go back to winter but the road.
Next day the scene was piled and puffed and dead.
The grass lay flattened under one great tread.
Borne down until the end almost took root,
The rangey bough anticipated fruit
With snowball cupped in every opening bud.
The road alone maintained itself in mud,
Whatever its secret was of greater heat
From inward fires or brush of passing feet.

In spring more mortal singers than belong
To any one place cover us with song.
Thrush, bluebird, blackbird, sparrow, and robin throng;
Some to go further north to Hudson's Bay,
Some that have come too far north back away,
Really a very few to build and stay.
Now was seen how these liked belated snow.
the field had nowhere left for them to go;
They'd soon exhausted all there was in flying;
The trees they'd had enough of with once trying
And setting off their heavy powder load.
They could find nothing open but the road.
Sot there they let their lives be narrowed in
By thousands the bad weather made akin.
The road became a channel running flocks
Of glossy birds like ripples over rocks.
I drove them under foot in bits of flight
That kept the ground. almost disputing right
Of way with me from apathy of wing,
A talking twitter all they had to sing.
A few I must have driven to despair
Made quick asides, but having done in air
A whir among white branches great and small
As in some too much carven marble hall
Where one false wing beat would have brought down all,
Came tamely back in front of me, the Drover,
To suffer the same driven nightmare over.
One such storm in a lifetime couldn't teach them
That back behind pursuit it couldn't reach them;
None flew behind me to be left alone.

Well, something for a snowstorm to have shown
The country's singing strength thus brought together,
the thought repressed and moody with the weather
Was none the less there ready to be freed
And sing the wildflowers up from root and seed.

Pea Brush by Robert Frost

I WALKED down alone Sunday after church
To the place where John has been cutting trees
To see for myself about the birch
He said I could have to bush my peas.

The sun in the new-cut narrow gap
Was hot enough for the first of May,
And stifling hot with the odor of sap
From stumps still bleeding their life away.

The frogs that were peeping a thousand shrill
Wherever the ground was low and wet,
The minute they heard my step went still
To watch me and see what I came to get.

Birch boughs enough piled everywhere!—
All fresh and sound from the recent axe.
Time someone came with cart and pair
And got them off the wild flower’s backs.

They might be good for garden things
To curl a little finger round,
The same as you seize cat’s-cradle strings,
And lift themselves up off the ground.

Small good to anything growing wild,
They were crooking many a trillium
That had budded before the boughs were piled
And since it was coming up had to come.

Misgiving by Robert Frost

All crying, 'We will go with you, O Wind!'
The foliage follow him, leaf and stem;
But a sleep oppresses them as they go,
And they end by bidding them as they go,
And they end by bidding him stay with them.

Since ever they flung abroad in spring
The leaves had promised themselves this flight,
Who now would fain seek sheltering wall,
Or thicket, or hollow place for the night.

And now they answer his summoning blast
With an ever vaguer and vaguer stir,
Or at utmost a little reluctant whirl
That drops them no further than where they were.

I only hope that when I am free
As they are free to go in quest
Of the knowledge beyond the bounds of life
It may not seem better to me to rest.

Blue-Butterfly Day by Robert Frost

It is blue-butterfly day here in spring,
And with these sky-flakes down in flurry on flurry
There is more unmixed color on the wing
Than flowers will show for days unless they hurry.

But these are flowers that fly and all but sing:
And now from having ridden out desire
They lie closed over in the wind and cling
Where wheels have freshly sliced the April mire.

Wild Grapes by Robert Frost

What tree may not the fig be gathered from?
The grape may not be gathered from the birch?
It's all you know the grape, or know the birch.
As a girl gathered from the birch myself
Equally with my weight in grapes, one autumn,
I ought to know what tree the grape is fruit of.
I was born, I suppose, like anyone,
And grew to be a little boyish girl
My brother could not always leave at home.
But that beginning was wiped out in fear
The day I swung suspended with the grapes,
And was come after like Eurydice
And brought down safely from the upper regions;
And the life I live now's an extra life
I can waste as I please on whom I please.
So if you see me celebrate two birthdays,
And give myself out of two different ages,
One of them five years younger than I look-

One day my brother led me to a glade
Where a white birch he knew of stood alone,
Wearing a thin head-dress of pointed leaves,
And heavy on her heavy hair behind,
Against her neck, an ornament of grapes.
Grapes, I knew grapes from having seen them last year.
One bunch of them, and there began to be
Bunches all round me growing in white birches,
The way they grew round Leif the Lucky's German;
Mostly as much beyond my lifted hands, though,
As the moon used to seem when I was younger,
And only freely to be had for climbing.
My brother did the climbing; and at first
Threw me down grapes to miss and scatter
And have to hunt for in sweet fern and hardhack;
Which gave him some time to himself to eat,
But not so much, perhaps, as a boy needed.
So then, to make me wholly self-supporting,
He climbed still higher and bent the tree to earth
And put it in my hands to pick my own grapes.
"Here, take a tree-top, I'll get down another.
Hold on with all your might when I let go."
I said I had the tree. It wasn't true.
The opposite was true. The tree had me.
The minute it was left with me alone
It caught me up as if I were the fish
And it the fishpole. So I was translated
To loud cries from my brother of "Let go!
Don't you know anything, you girl? Let go!"
But I, with something of the baby grip
Acquired ancestrally in just such trees
When wilder mothers than our wildest now
Hung babies out on branches by the hands
To dry or wash or tan, I don't know which,
(You'll have to ask an evolutionist)-
I held on uncomplainingly for life.
My brother tried to make me laugh to help me.
"What are you doing up there in those grapes?
Don't be afraid. A few of them won't hurt you.
I mean, they won't pick you if you don't them."
Much danger of my picking anything!
By that time I was pretty well reduced
To a philosophy of hang-and-let-hang.
"Now you know how it feels," my brother said,
"To be a bunch of fox-grapes, as they call them,
That when it thinks it has escaped the fox
By growing where it shouldn't-on a birch,
Where a fox wouldn't think to look for it-
And if he looked and found it, couldn't reach it-
Just then come you and I to gather it.
Only you have the advantage of the grapes
In one way: you have one more stem to cling by,
And promise more resistance to the picker."

One by one I lost off my hat and shoes,
And still I clung. I let my head fall back,
And shut my eyes against the sun, my ears
Against my brother's nonsense; "Drop," he said,
"I'll catch you in my arms. It isn't far."
(Stated in lengths of him it might not be.)
"Drop or I'll shake the tree and shake you down."
Grim silence on my part as I sank lower,
My small wrists stretching till they showed the banjo strings.
"Why, if she isn't serious about it!
Hold tight awhile till I think what to do.
I'll bend the tree down and let you down by it."
I don't know much about the letting down;
But once I felt ground with my stocking feet
And the world came revolving back to me,
I know I looked long at my curled-up fingers,
Before I straightened them and brushed the bark off.
My brother said: "Don't you weigh anything?
Try to weigh something next time, so you won't
Be run off with by birch trees into space."

It wasn't my not weighing anything
So much as my not knowing anything-
My brother had been nearer right before.
I had not taken the first step in knowledge;
I had not learned to let go with the hands,
As still I have not learned to with the heart,
And have no wish to with the heart-nor need,
That I can see. The mind-is not the heart.
I may yet live, as I know others live,
To wish in vain to let go with the mind-
Of cares, at night, to sleep; but nothing tells me
That I need learn to let go with the heart.

bricoleurs of paradox

shadow flags flagging shadows

he doesn’t particularly feel
like sharing his personal
information in any
form though he
knows that
simply writing
a series of words
reveals painfully so
the reality of his now

append a horse dowsabel
recriminate the fossick hurry
as if every breath a Rorschach

she knows how the rider races
how shadows play smallness
the lane is not a boulevard

Robert Bly or Rob’t
Creel’y ’pressed
crushing out
bay stones
confess
screw
tape
bind
letters
to a fire
is it the smithy
or an issue of heat
recount the processes
the cold conductors of this
orchestra of infinite moments

we do feel better when we hear yes
a culture of pearls & a handful of mane

the shadows in the grass compel us beyond
the emptiness of their gauge: so authentic in their
inauthenticity: marry your biography to its snippets
of dreams to its fish in a bucket to its sea in a busted cloud

or listen: i said i talked because i was afraid, that my talking was
a defense no different than silence save how some thought you were
shy because you never spoke & i knew Buck Owens was never a fake

Anwar Malayalam song - Magic of Shreya Ghoshal's voice

Mommy's Kiss from Kiddles