What's pleasing to the eye In the delusion of my sight Is not what I find when I reach into the light I have lost my mind I'm walking through time Deluded as the next guy Pretending and hoping to find That distant peace of mind I don't know Who does know There is no Where to go It's not so simple as I try to wish But then again what is? There is no other worthy quest So on I go I don't know Who does know There is no Where to go –Beastie Boys - "I Don't Know"

Brad Mehldau covering Radiohead’s “Exit Music (for a film)”

Where does the real poetry Come from? From the amorous sighs In this moist dark when making love With form or Spirit. Where does poetry live? In the eye that says,"Wow wee," In the overpowering felt splendor Every sane mind knows When it realizes - our life dance Is only for a few magic Seconds, From the heart saying, Shouting, "I am so damn Alive." –Hafiz

this man is an angel. period.

There comes a time in life To put on your coat and go outside To taste the vinegar of life, bitter life To taste a second time, its sweet surprise Sweet surprise It's not that hard to figure it out When there's no question, there's no doubt I burned an effigy to time, senseless time To view the miracle, but the water isn't wine And that was my crime There is a face in the stone We let it out to find its form To shape the testament of will, strongest will Pride, humility, a bitter pill Bitter pill Sweet surrender, oh my Lord I never thought I'd see Not surprising, still I find I'm shaking, crying But I'm laughing, softly There comes a time in life To put on your coat and go outside –Glen Phillips, "There comes a Time"

via raganwald:

A monk and his novice were walking through the forest. They come to a stream. On the bank there was a beautifully dressed woman, crying. The monks asked her what was the matter. “I am on my way to a wedding. I have to cross the stream to get there, but the bridge has been washed away. I was searching for a place to cross where I wouldn’t ruin the dress, but I can’t find one and if I don’t make it across soon, I will be late.” Without a word, the elder monk scooped her into his arms, waded across the stream, and deposited her on the other side. Ignoring her thanks, he waded back and the two monks resume their walk. They continued on their journey, but the younger monk was agitated and obviously had something on his mind. The elder monk stopped and asked him what was the matter. “Elder, I am confused. Our vows prohibit us from fleshly contact with women, yet you embraced that woman in your arms. How can this be?” The elder monk eyed his novice with kindly concern. “Novice,” he asked, “I left her on the bank of the stream. Why do you still carry her?”