Jo Boniszewski

I am a sky gazer. The sky, it pulls at me. Its amazing eternal expanse of breathtaking beauty calls me back to my senses, stretches my awareness, soothes my eyes, opens my heart, stills me. I feel a soft soul longing to be up there, in the vastness, amongst the clouds that are alive and billow and skud and glow; metamorphosing from perfection into perfection. A constantly changing canvas brushed by magic.

The gap that’s opened I’m filling with fairy dust, hues of the heart and a joy for life what was… I invite to exit right quietly, in shades of black and white.

She stepped out barefoot on to the grass, her soul naked, sun beating to her heart’s rhythm, bathing her skin. In her mind, she had already escaped.

All those moments are alive in us today. We may not visit them anymore, very often, but we carry them in our DNA, our blood, our bones; informing the breadth and beauty of who we now are; our lesson to be lived.

The time has come to shed this skin. Its cloying inconvenience doesn’t fit me anymore. My new attire strikes color, shine, shadow, makes noise, and may put your teeth on edge. Tough sh–. Get used to it. I’m inviting you to step into your fear and dance with life.

Wake up, lift your head, open your eyes, and dream. Gaze softly into your heart’s whispers. Notice the pull of your belly and that which makes you come alive. Let your soul speak, beckoning you to embark on that one voyage you can no longer let lie.

Commerce is of trivial import; love, faith, truth of character, the aspiration of man, these are sacred.

Little minds have little worries, big minds have no time for worries.

Few people know how to take a walk. The qualifications are endurance, plain clothes, old shoes, an eye for nature, good humor, vast curiosity, good speech, good silence and nothing too much.

We are happier in many ways when we are old than when we were young. The young sow wild oats. The old grow sage.

Baseball has the great advantage over cricket of being sooner ended.

It does not need that a poem should be long. Every word was once a poem. Every new relationship is a new word.

There is only one thing about which I shall have no regrets when my life ends. I have savored to the full all the small, daily joys. The bright sunshine on the breakfast table; the smell of the air at dusk; the sound of the clock ticking; the light rains that start gently after midnight; the hour when the family come home; Sunday-evening tea before the fire! I have never missed one moment of beauty, not even taken it for granted. Spring, summer, autumn, or winter. I wish I had failed as little in other ways.

If you are always trying to be normal you will never know how amazing you can be.

In Boston they ask, How much does he know? In New York, How much is he worth? In Philadelphia, Who were his parents?

Imagination is the beginning of creation. You imagine what you desire, you will what you imagine and at last you create what you will.

All the arguments which are brought to represent poverty as no evil show it evidently to be a great evil.

The momentous thing in human life is the art of winning the soul to good or evil.

Any experience of reality is indescribable!

Prepare for death, if here at night you roam, and sign your will before you sup from home.

To strive with difficulties, and to conquer them, is the highest human felicity.