There’ll come a time

‘This can’t last. This misery can’t last. I must remember that and try to control myself. Nothing lasts, really. Neither 

happiness nor despair. Not even life lasts very long. There’ll come a time in the future when I shan’t mind about this 

anymore. When I can look back and say quite peacefully how silly I was. No, no, I don’t want that time to come, ever. 

I want to remember every minute. Always. Always, to the end of my days.’

(excerpt from Brief Encounter - UK, 1945; a film by David Lean; starring Celia Johnson, Trevor Howard)

A lover asked his beloved

A lover asked his beloved,

Do you love yourself more
than you love me?




The beloved replied,
I have died to myself
and I live for you.

I’ve disappeared from myself

and my attributes.
I am present only for you.

I have forgotten all my learning,
but from knowing you
I have become a scholar.

I have lost all my strength,

but from your power
I am able.

If I love myself
I love you.
If I love you
I love myself.

(Rumi: Do you love me?)

Blessed sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessed face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice

*

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care

Teach us to sit still.

*

This is the time of tension between dying and birth
The place of solitude where three dreams cross
Between blue rocks
But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away
Let the other yew be shaken and reply.

Blessed sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated

And let my cry come unto Thee.

T.S. Eliot: Ash Wednesday (fragments)