Quotes About Renewal

Sometimes hidden from me in daily custom and in trust, so that I live by you unaware as by the beating of my heart, Suddenly you flare in my sight, a wild rose blooming at the edge of thicket, grace and light where yesterday was only shade, and once again I am blessed, choosing again what I chose before

Invariably the failure of organized religions, by which they cut themselves off from mystery and therefore from sanctity, lies in the attempt to impose an absolute division between faith and doubt, to make belief perform as knowledge; when they forbid their prophets to go into the wilderness, they lose the possibility of renewal.

I remember too how spring came, just when I thought it might stay winter forever, at first in little touches and strokes of green lighting up the bare mud like candle flames, and then it covered the whole place with a light pelt of shadowy grass blades and leaves. And I remember how, as the days and the winds passed over, the foliage shifted and sang.

For everything that comes is a gift, the meaning always carried out of sight to renew our whereabouts, always a starting place. And every gift is perfect in its beginning, for it is "from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights.

To be creative is only to have health: to keep oneself fully alive in the Creation, to keep the Creation fully alive in oneself, to see the Creation anew, to welcome one's part in it anew.

And when we finally gathered ourselves together again among the ruins, we were changed.

Again the air is full of falling: the fall of the leaves in the weighty season that brings all home again to the lowly miracle from which they came.

If I destroyed what already existed, what would I replace it with? For something always exists before you get there with your desires and visions, and this simply had not occurred to me before in such a way that I could feel the truth of it. What did I have to offer?

The pasture, bleached and cold two weeks ago, Begins to grow in the spring light and rain;

Though the spring is late and cold, though uproar of greed and malice shudders in the sky, pond, stream, and treetop raise their ancient songs; the robin molds her mud nest with her breast; the air is bright with breath of bloom, wise loveliness that asks nothing of the season but to be.

Though we invite, this healing comes in answer to another voice than ours; a strength not ours returns

A spring wind blowing the smell of the ground through the intersections of traffic, the mind turns, seeks a new nativity- another place, simpler, less weighted by what has already been.

If nothing ever changed, there would be no such things as butterflies.

Change is growth; love is never lost.

The man who drinks Zambezi waters must always return to drink again.

move him into the sun- gently its touch awoke him once

I must really rest a little before I can get on any farther. When I have reclined for a few minutes, with my eyes closed, and when Louis has refreshed my poor aching temples with a little eau-de-Cologne, I may be able to proceed.

Death like style is the removal of rubbish.

life must breed.

When sakura fall from the branch, the shock waves can shatter entire cities.

Love is the child that breathes our breath. Love is the child that scatters death.

The Holy Word That walk'd among the ancient trees, Calling the lapsèd soul, And weeping in the evening dew; That might control The starry pole, And fallen, fallen light renew!

Merrily, merrily, to welcome in the year. Little lamb, Here I am; Come and lick My white neck; Let me pull Your soft wool; Let me kiss Your soft face; Merrily, merrily, to welcome in the year.

Arise from out the dewy grass! Night is worn, And the morn Rises from the slumberous mass. Turn away no more; Why wilt thou turn away? The starry floor, The watery shore, Are given thee till the break of day.