An ode to poets. From Ralph Waldo Emerson: Circles from Essays, First Series
"We value the poet ... In my daily work I incline to repeat my old steps, and do not believe in remedial force, in the power of change and reform. But some Petrarch or Ariosto, filled with the new wine of his imagination, writes me an ode or a brisk romance, full of daring thought and action. He smites and arouses me with his shrill tones, breaks up my whole chain of habits, and I open my eye on my own possibilities."
It is written, "we learn through pain until we evolve to learn through joy."
Funny thing is, that some people hold on to pain like an old friend, and they
cannot tell the difference between the open hand that lifts up, and the back hand that beats down. I pray to not be that person.
And I pray that I would rather be poor with a soul that is open to receive and express all the highs and the lows of this life, than the most successful and renowned professional that sold his soul and trampled over the remains of others.
The teachings of Buddha
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