A Quote by Edwin Arlington Robinson
No matter what we are, and what we sing, Time finds a withered leaf in every laurel
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Angel and Muse approach from without; the Angel sheds light and the Muse gives form (Hesiod learned of them). Gold leaf or chiton-folds: the poet finds his models in his laurel coppice. But the Duende, on the other hand, must come to life in the nethermost recesses of the blood.
And since I’m marrying into the Quartet, I have certain privileges and duties. If you’re sleeping with Laurel—” “I’m not sleeping with Laurel. We’re dating.” “Right, and the two of you are just going to hold hands, admire the moon, and sing camp songs.” “For a while. Minus the singing.
On me, on me Time and change can heap no more! The painful past with blighting grief Hath left my heart a withered leaf. Time and change can do no more.
I just sing the song and I sing it with conviction, meaning and I get into the mood of every song I do no matter how much time I have in between.
The blossom is blighted, the leaf is withered, the God of day goes down upon the dreary scene, and in short you are for ever floored.
Beyond age, leaf withered, man goes three footed no stronger than a child is, a dream that falters in daylight.
The leaf of every tree brings a message from the unseen world. Look, every falling leaf is a blessing.
I think you have to know these fellows definitely before you can draw them. When you start to caricature a person,you can't do it without knowing the person. Take Laurel and Hardy for example; everybody can see Laurel doing certain things because they know Laurel.
There is a force of exultation, a celebration of luck, when a writer finds himself a witness to the early morning of a culture that is defining itself, branch by branch, leaf by leaf, in that self-defining dawn, which is why, especially at the edge of the sea, it is good to make a ritual of the sunrise.
'Ever seen a leaf - a leaf from a tree?' 'Yes.' I saw one recently - a yellow one, a little green, wilted at the edges. Blown by the wind. When I was a little boy, I used to shut my eyes in winter and imagine a green leaf, with veins on it, and the sun shining ...' 'What's this - an allegory?' "No; why? Not an allegory - a leaf, just a leaf. A leaf is good. Everything's good.'
Does a dragon still sing from within a withered tree?
A withered maple leaf has left its branch and is falling to the ground; its movements resemble those of a butterfly in flight. Isn't it strange? The saddest and deadest of things is yet so like the gayest and most vital of creatures?
If a man who can’t count finds a four leaf clover, is he lucky?
When I sing, I go somewhere else. Every time after I sing, I'll ask, 'Did I do OK?' Because I feel like it's like my soul squeezing out of my vocal chords. I don't sit there and think about 'I'm gonna do this next...' I just sing. I sing from my heart, and my heart's got a little lonesome in it.
I had to sing. I couldn't not sing. If it was singing to a living room full of people or an auditorium, it didn't matter. I had to sing. I was meant to sing.
A Godly leader ... finds strength by realizing his weakness
finds authority by being under authority
finds direction by laying down his plans
finds vision by seeing the needs of others
finds credibility by being an example
finds loyalty by expressing compassion
finds honor by being faithful
finds greatness by being a servant
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