Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 (To Everything There Is A Season)
by Solomon (?)
To everything there is a season, and
a time to every purpose under the heavens:
A time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck
up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to […]
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How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
(Sonnets from the Portuguese: XLIII)
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level […]
Sonnet XCVII by William Shakespeare
How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December’s bareness everywhere!
And yet this time remov’d was summer’s time,
The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton burden of the prime,
Like widow’d wombs after their lords’ […]
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It is past one in the morning, and yet again I find myself wide awake as usual. I am not sure if it is because of my baby’s activity in my womb that is keeping me up, but I am glad she is here to keep me company.
In a few weeks’ time I am finally […]
Psych students spell out “F G” as they read their favorite quotable quote at the tribute for Dad.
I think I was about seven years of age then.
I distinctly remember that it was a Saturday morning — very early in the morning mind you — and I recall being quite confused when Dad woke me up. I knew I need not be up at that hour, as there were no classes […]
I. 11 P.M. Nov. 17 [1967]
By the way, until today I have not written poems. This afternoon I did not go to Dalton. I shut myself in my room and composed one with a dedication: “To my wife.” I’ll mail it separately. As an English major with a solid base on Pinter, I leave the […]
Another Friday, twelve twenty-something PM has come and gone, and after what seems like a bat of an eyelash it has been 6 weeks since our Dad’s passing. I wish I could say it has gotten easier, or that I have progressed through the DABDA of mourning (also called the stages of grief by psychiatrists, […]
Corrections:
Dr. F.G. David wasn’t a chemist or a lawyer. He did want to study Law at UP but a chance class encounter with an English Professor made him shift to A.B. English.
His first born, a daughter, drowned in the swimming pool of the apartment complex where the family was staying in at the time. Dr. […]