A Quote by Pablo Neruda
I love all things, not only the grand but the infinitely small: thimble, spurs, plates, flower vases.
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Take one flower that you like and get lots of them. And don't try to 'arrange' them. It's surprisingly hard to do a flower arrangement the way a florist does one. Instead, bunch them all together or put them in a series of small vases all down the table.
A reader can never tell if it's a real thimble or an imaginary thimble, because by the time you're reading it, they're the same. It's a thimble. It's in the book.
There is no beyond, there is only here, the infinitely small, infinitely great and utterly demanding present.
A flower is not a flower. It is made only of non-flower elements - sunshine, clouds, time, space, earth, minerals, gardeners, and so on. A true flower contains the whole universe. If we return any one of these non-flower elements to its source, there will be no flower.
And a thimble's worth of milky moon Can touch hearts larger than a thimble.
All flowers are flirtatious - particularly if they carry hyphenated names. The more hyphens in the name, the flirtier the flower. The one-hyphen flowers - black-eyed Susan; lady-smock; musk-rose - may give you only a shy glance and then drop their eyes; the two-hyphen flowers - forget-me-not; flower-de-luce - keep glancing. Flowers with three or more hyphens flirt all over the garden and continue even when they are cut and arranged in vases. John-go-to-bed-at-noon does not go there simply to sleep.
It is required to find the infinitely big inside what's infinitely small to feel the presence of God.
Man lives between the infinitely large and the infinitely small.
The role of the infinitely small in nature is infinitely great.
We must not drift away from the humble works, because these are the works nobody will do. It is never too small. We are so small we look at things in a small way. But God, being Almighty, sees everything great. Therefore, even if you write a letter for a blind man or you just go sit and listen, or you take the mail for him, or you visit somebody or bring a flower to somebody-small things-or wash clothes for somebody, or clean the house. Very humble work, that is where you and I must be. For there are many people who can do big things. But there are very few people who will do the small things.
Who then understands the reciprocal flux and reflux of the infinitely great and the infinitely small, the echoing of causes in the abysses of being, and the avalanches of creation?
I love cheese plates. Though I actually hate cheese plates. Because I can't say no to them.
We have to get out of this cultural mindset of putting badges on ourselves and playing the martyr spinning 1,000 plates. We need to be spinning six plates, and doing it well. Otherwise plates tumble and break.
I really am only one infinitely small part of an aching humanity.
A flower is relatively small... Still in a way-nobody sees a flower-so I said to myself-I'll paint it big.
I held a blue flower in my hand, probably a wild aster, wondering what its name was, and then thought that human names for natural things are superfluous. Nature herself does not name them. The important thing is to know this flower, look at its color until the blends becomes as real as a keynote of music. Look at the exquisite yellow flowerettes at the center, become very small with them. Be the flower, be the trees, the blowing grasses. Fly with the birds, jump with a squirrel!
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