"Heart over mind" – 1246 rezultate
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ODOriah Mountain Dreamer
Oriah Mountain Dreamer is the author of the inspirational prose-poem and international best-selling books, The Invitation (now translated into over fifteen languages), The Dance and The Call: Discovering Why You Are Here . Her writing explores how to follow the thread of our deepest heart\'s longing into a life of meaning and purpose. Her latest book, What We Ache For: Creativity and the Unfolding of Your Soul, (Harper San Francisco, April 2005) offers reflections on and practical guidelines for finding and cultivating creative work that is not separated from your spirituality, your direct experience of that which is both what you are and larger than yourself, or your sexuality, the fire and sensuality of life lived in the physical world. Oriah has shared her insights and stories with audiences throughout the world at conferences and retreats and through radio and TV appearances (CBC, TVO, Oprah, NPR, PBS, Wisdom Network.) Blending ruthless honesty, humour, insight and compassion for...
0 poezii, 0 proze
JRJames Whitcomb Riley
Born October 7, 1849, Greenfield,Indiana, US Died July 22, 1916 (aged 66)Indianapolis, Indiana, US James Whitcomb Riley (October 7, 1849 – July 22, 1916) was an American writer and poet. Known as the "Hoosier Poet", "National Poet" and the "Children's Poet," [2] he started his career during 1875 writing newspaper verse in Indiana dialect for the Indianapolis Journal. His verse tended to be humorous or sentimental, and of the approximately one-thousand poems that Riley published, over half are in dialect. Claiming that “simple sentiments that come direct from the heart”[1] were the reason for his success, Riley vended verse about ordinary topics that were "heart high. "Riley was a bestselling author during the early 1900s and earned a steady income from royalties; he also traveled and gave public readings of his poetry. His favorite authors were Robert Burns and Charles Dickens, and Riley himself befriended bestselling Indiana authors such as Booth Tarkington, George Ade and Meredith...
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RTRobert Tofan
Data nastere: 13 August 1981 e-mail: (tofan.robert@yahoo.de) On every street in every city, there's a nobody who dreams of being a somebody. He's a lonely forgotten man desperate to prove that he's alive.
16 poezii, 0 proze
RRrusoiu raluca
Textele mele...sa ma gandesc ...ce pot sa spun despre ele?!Sunt cuvinte rupte din suflet,scrise in urma unei lovituri demonice.Cicatrice am inca si azi...tot ce am scris am simtit pana in adancul sufletului,am trait pana in adncul maduvii si am gandit ...poate... pana in adancul neuronului.Acestea reprezinta "Moartea unui inger" dupa cum am si o proza, trecerea d la speranta la deznadejde,suferinta, dezamagire, si, in sfarsit, la moarte.Poate suna prea dur moarte, dar nu ma refer la moartea trupeasca, ci la cea sufleteasca, ceea ce este si ma dur.Poeziile mele sunt lopeti d pamant puse una peste alta pentru a-mi ingropa viata.Prin poeziile mele si proze sper ca lumea sa invete ceva din ele si sa nu faca aceleasi greseli ca acele "personeje lirice".Totul incepe frumos, la inceput cuvinte frumase, inaltatoare, dar treptat, treptat duc spre morminte , demoni, iad etc.Insa in spatele acestor cuvinte se afla cel mai amar sentimet-dragostea.Ce a fost dragostea pentru mine?!moartea ingerului...
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GKGabriel J. Khazini
Broken glass still echoes in his heart as broken mirrors, Heart that once danced love and fear... And thus all puppets sing the song that hurt the puppeteer
2 poezii, 0 proze
Mantra Shirokuro
I'm just my ego's coma... my heart's deep poison It's just a waiste of time Waiting for your love poem..
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Ovidiu Tarau
There's no rain...the raindrops are God's tears for mankind forgot how to love with all the heart...
2 poezii, 0 proze
AAmara
"Poet divin, lumina fara moarte m-ajute-n grai iubirea-n veci fierbinte cu care pururi ti-am citit din carte" Infernul - Dante Alighieri This is me for forever One of the lost ones The one without a name Without an honest heart as compass This is me for forever One without a name These lines the last endeavor To find the missing lifeline Nemo - Nightwish Last dance, first kiss Your touch my bliss Beauty always comes with dark thoughts I wish... Wish I had an Angel - Nightwish
4 poezii, 0 proze
RVRenée Vivien
Renée Vivien, born Pauline Mary Tarn (11 June 1877 - 18 November 1909) was a British poet who wrote in the French language.[1][2] She took to heart all the mannerisms of Symbolism, as one of the last poets to claim allegiance to the school. Her compositions include sonnets, hendecasyllabic verse, and prose poetry. Vivien was born in London, England to a wealthy British father and an American mother from Jackson, Michigan. She grew up in Paris and London. Upon inheriting her father's fortune at 21, she emigrated permanently to France. In Paris, Vivien's dress and lifestyle were as notorious among the bohemian set as was her verse. She lived lavishly, as an open lesbian, and carried on a well-known affair with American heiress and writer Natalie Clifford Barney. She also harbored a lifelong obsession with her closest childhood friend and neighbor, Violet Shillito – a relationship that remained unconsummated. In 1900 Vivien abandoned this chaste love, when the great romance with Natalie...
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Radu Contes
The beginning of my childhood was profoundly marked by one of my grandfather’s passions – literature. For him reading, living, the writings of so many did not seem to be enough, so he began writing his own stories that still echo in my memory and in my heart. I remember that one day I went to him and asked “What are you writing about?”. Looking at me for only a second and returning his eyes at the ink stained notebook he answered: “My life”. Regretful, I confess that that was the last dialogue we had. After that I began reading, reading everything he was writing. Two years after his death, I had met someone who changed everything. I stopped reading and began writing myself. It was such a new feeling. It seemed to be never ending. It still feels. Since the first time, you may think I am exaggerating, but it really was the first time I saw her when I felt this sudden urge of writing. Words like “Thank you” seem meaningless compared to the things that you have done for me.
2 poezii, 0 proze
Heart over mind
de voiculescu daniela
sunt eu și acoperișurile albe... ninge încet. câinii încep să urle, lasă urme pe drum... renunț la baie, ca să mă încălzesc cu lumina zăpezii și să-mi împac pântecul mic, ghem de rodie... acum,...
Ash Wednesday
de T.S. Eliot
I Because I do not hope to turn again Because I do not hope Because I do not hope to turn Desiring this man\'s gift and that man\'s scope I no longer strive to strive towards such things (Why should...
To me he seems like a god
de Cristina
To me he seems like a god the man who sits facing you and hears you near as you speak softly and laugh in a sweet echo that jolts the heart in my ribs.For now as i look at you my voice is empty and...
night of new years eve
de kim
Night of new years eve stars are blinking like talking to eachother smiling about this lovely night this dark blue glimmering valley lighted by all the white little houselights silents is surrounding...
Angel fallen, devil risen
de Ciu Radu
Angel fallen, devil risen, Fire burning, candle fizzled Rose just called, I fell so deep From the grail I took a sip Wasn\'t salty, wasn\'t sweet I just found someone to meet Not too real but not me,...
Death of a ladies man
de Leonard Cohen
Ah the man she wanted all her life was hanging by a thread \"I never even knew how much I wanted you,\" she said. His muscles they were numbered and his style was obsolete. \"O baby, I have come too...
The Seafarer
de Ezra Pound
May I for my own self song\'s truth reckon, Journey\'s jargon, how I in harsh days Hardship endured oft. Bitter breast-cares have I abided, Known on my keel many a care\'s hold, And dire sea-surge,...
The Axe Helve
de Robert Frost
I\'ve known ere now an interfering branch Of alder catch my lifted axe behind me. But that was in the woods, to hold my hand From striking at another alder\'s roots, And that was, as I say, an alder...
Proverbs of Hell
de William Blake
In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy. Drive your cart and your plough over the bones of the dead. The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom. Prudence is a rich, ugly old maid...
To Silvia
de Giacomo Leopardi
Silvia, do you remember the moments, in your mortal life, when beauty still shone in your sidelong, laughing eyes, and you, light and thoughtful, went beyond girlhood’s limits? The quiet rooms and...