The ruins of the year are beautiful, like these in Mallorca, and I treasure what I have been and seen.
image: Christie B. Cochrell, Mallorca 2013
“And off in the far distance, the gold on the wings of the angel atop the bell tower of San Marco flashed in the sun, bathing the entire city in its glistening benediction.” —Donna Leon, Death in a Strange CountryI am always grateful for Italy—its gold-winged angels, its bell towers (even in the absence of bells, like Lucca in October), the houses of the composers like this brilliant pink villa of Giuseppe Verdi's, and the more subdued villa where Giacomo Puccini wrote his operas on Lake Massachiuccoli near the Tyrrhenean Sea. Its colors and its fragrances—onions cooking in olive oil for the noontime pasta sauce, the tart purple of blackberry gelato, that whiff of rosemary.
"Your sacred space is where you can find yourself over and over again."
— Joseph Campbell
“The places where water comes together with other water. Those places stand out in my mind like holy places.”—Raymond Carver
“Everything in the world is beautiful, but Man only recognizes beauty if he sees it either seldom or from afar. Listen, today we are gods! Our blue shadows are enormous! We move in a gigantic, joyful world!” (Vladimir Nabokov)I love the thought of our blue shadows being enormous, and our joy along with them.
“Happiness is itself a kind of gratitude.”(Joseph Wood Krutch)
There must be something strangely sacred in salt. It is in our tears and in the sea.