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Desiderata – Max Ehrmann

Desiderata
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann, Desiderata

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Saints 40, Texans 33

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The Prayer – Celine Dion and Andrea Bocelli

Lyrics
I pray you’ll be our eyes, and watch us where we go.
And help us to be wise in times when we don’t know.
Let this be our prayer, when we lose our way.
Lead us to a place, guide us with your grace
To a place where we’ll be safe.

La luce che tu dai
Nel cuore restera
A ricordarci che
L’eterna stella sei.

I pray we’ll find your light,
And hold it in our hearts
When stars go out each night,
Remind us where you are..

Nella mia preghiera
Quanta fede c’e.
Lead us to a place ?

Let this be our prayer
When shadows fill our day
Guide us with your grace

Give us faith so we’ll be safe.

Sogniamo un mondo senza piu violenza,
Un mondo di giustizia e di speranza.
Ognuno dia una mano al suo vicino,
Simbolo di pace…di fraternita.

La forza che ci dai
E desiderio te
Ognuno trovi amor
Intorno e dentro se.
Let this be our prayer,
Just like every child.

We ask that life be kind
And watch us from above.
We hope each soul will find
Another soul to love.
Let this be our prayer,
Just like every child.

Needs to find a place, guide us with your grace
Give us faith so we’ll be safe
E la fede che hai acceso in noi
Sento che ci salverai…

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Chimes of Freedom – Bob Dylan

Far between sundown’s finish an’ midnight’s broken toll
We ducked inside the doorway, thunder crashing
As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in the sounds
Seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing
Flashing for the warriors whose strength is not to fight
Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight
An’ for each an’ ev’ry underdog soldier in the night
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

In the city’s melted furnace, unexpectedly we watched
With faces hidden as the walls were tightening
As the echo of the wedding bells before the blowin’ rain
Dissolved into the bells of the lightning
Tolling for the rebel, tolling for the rake
Tolling for the luckless, the abandoned an’ forsaked
Tolling for the outcast, burnin’ constantly at stake
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Through the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail
The sky cracked it’s poems in naked wonder
That the clinging of the church bells blew far into the breeze
Leaving only bells of lightning and it’s thunder
Striking for the gentle, striking for the kind
Striking for the guardians and protectors of the mind
An’ the poet an the painter far behind his rightful time
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

In the wild cathedral evening the rain unraveled tales
For the disrobed faceless forms of no position
Tolling for the tongues with no place to bring their thoughts
All down in taken-for granted situations
Tolling for the deaf an’ blind, tolling for the mute
For the mistreated, mateless mother, the mistitled prostitute
For the misdemeanor outlaw, chased an’ cheated by pursuit
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Even though a clouds’s white curtain in a far-off corner flashed
An’ the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting
Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones
Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting
Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail
For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale
An’ for each unharmfull, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Starry-eyed an’ laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an’ we watched with one last look
Spellbound an’ swallowed ’til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an’ worse
An’ for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

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Art – Jim Metcalf

To leave behind some vestige of the thoughts we had…
The things we felt…
Some tangible evidence that proclaims us to be
More than things
That walked and breathed
And for a time occupied some tiny space
In this universe.

This is the dream eternal of those who would create.
Those who would leave something of themselves…
Something not here
Before their coming,
A creation like no other…
As no man is like another.
And if it be beautiful to behold,
Many would be the happier for it.
And if it is judged to be otherwise…
So be it.
If, in honesty it reflects
A thought…
A mood
Or transient fantasy of its creator,
Art’s purpose has been served.
The artist has had his say.

And perhaps on some tomorrow
With changing circumstance,
There will be one to gaze upon it
And see beauty there.
Some someone
Who understands,
Canvas hung in half forgotten places…
Metal made red with heat
And molded…
Metal now grown cold…
Words that fade
On yellow, brittle paper…
These things and ten thousand others say,
“I have lived.
I have felt.
And this I leave
As part of both.”

~ Jim Metcalf ~
Jim Metcalf’s Journal

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