A Splendid Torch

This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.

I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community, and as long as I live it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can.

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. Life is no “brief candle” for me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.

— George Bernard Shaw

A Creative Force

"As my sufferings mounted, I soon realized that there were two ways in which I could respond to my situation — either to react with bitterness or seek to transform the suffering into a creative force; I decided to follow the latter course."

-Martin Luther King, Jr.

The Problem of Describing Color

                 "If I said — remembering in summer,

                 The cardinal's sudden smudge of red

                 In the bare gray winter woods —

If I said, red ribbon on the cocked

                    straw hat

                 Of the girl with pooched-out lips

                 Dangling a wiry lapdog

                 In the painting by Renoir —

                 If I said fire, if I said blood welling

                    from a cut —

                 Or flecks of poppy in the tar-grass

                    scented summer air

                 On a wind-struck hillside outside

                     Fano —

                 If I said, her one red earring tugging

                    at her silky lobe,

                 If she tells fortunes with a deck of

                    fallen leaves

                 Until it comes out right —

                 Rouged nipple, mouth —

                 (How could you not love a woman

                 Who cheats at the Tarot?)

                 Red, I said. Sudden, red."

                    — Robert Hass

                           From Time and Materials:

                           Poems 1997-2005