Jo Boniszewski

You are perfect. An exquisitely fine work of art, labor of love, suspended in silence. Bejeweled, trembling, kissed by a breeze, mesmerized by your beauty. You await in silence, beckoning me to a silken-wrapped slumber.

I am the flame, electric blue, lightening, razor-like, renewing my spirit. Heart beating in time to the earth’s rhythm and expanse of black ink sky, overreaching eternal. My fingertips spark with seeds of creation, fireworks coloring canvas, beckoned by this light that lifts me.

Resting at your shore fills me with a peace, as if I’ve always been here. My cells resonating with the element of you, boundaries diffuse as one.

Stay with me,’ he said, ‘until the sun goes out, the seas are parched, and the wind draws its last breath.

In this magical hour, as the black ink sky fades to forget-me-not grey and the Cyprus trees emerge from the shadows, I tune in to my heart. In clarity, I choose to step into freedom to bring lightness of being and to be love.

Lilac anemone, paper petals, turning tentatively to face a pale sun opening to reveal a lightness of being, a flash of gold, a fresh resilience, contented silence, the dawn of a new day.

He who is not just is severe, he who is not wise is sad.

Certainly virtue is like precious odors, most fragrant when they are incensed, or crushed: for prosperity does best discover vice, but adversity does best discover virtue.

Originality is nothing but judicious imitation. The most original writers borrowed one from another.

To find yourself, think for yourself.

Go into the street, and give one man a lecture on morality, and another a shilling, and see which will respect you most.

Kings in this should imitate God, their mercy should be above their works.

The truest end of life is to know that life never ends.

I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work the more I live. I rejoice in life for its own sake.

I cannot pretend to feel impartial about colors. I rejoice with the brilliant ones and am genuinely sorry for the poor browns.

Courage is the first of human qualities because it is the quality which guarantees all others.

No place affords a more striking conviction of the vanity of human hopes, than a public library.

A big leather-bound volume makes an ideal razor strap. A thin book is useful to stick under a table with a broken caster to steady it. A large, flat atlas can be used to cover a window with a broken pane. And a thick, old-fashioned heavy book with a clasp is the finest thing in the world to throw at a noisy cat.

We may have all come on different ships, but we’re in the same boat now.

A perpendicular expression of a horizontal desire.

The key to every man is his thought. He can only be reformed by showing him a new idea which commands his own.