New York City, New York
We arrived in New York, by rail, the day before Christmas. Everything looked bright and gay in our streets. It seemed to me that the sky was clearer, the air more refreshing, and the sunlight more brilliant than in any other land!
Elizabeth Cady Stanton (1815–1902), U.S. suffragist, author, and social reformer. Eighty Years and More (1815-1897), ch. 6 (1898).
Thursday, December 30, 2004
5th Avenue
Santa Barbara Mission Tomb
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
Santa Barbara Mission
Santa Barbara, California
With the help of Spain's soldiers, the Indians were herded to the sites of the missions. Once there, they became slaves, directed by the friars to build the missions. Once within the mission boundaries, they were forever forbidden to leave.
Elias Castillo
"The dark, terrible secret of California's missions"
San Francisco Chronicle
Monday, November 8, 2004
With the help of Spain's soldiers, the Indians were herded to the sites of the missions. Once there, they became slaves, directed by the friars to build the missions. Once within the mission boundaries, they were forever forbidden to leave.
Elias Castillo
"The dark, terrible secret of California's missions"
San Francisco Chronicle
Monday, November 8, 2004
Monday, December 20, 2004
Sunday, December 19, 2004
Fremont Street and Las Vegas Boulevard
Saturday, December 18, 2004
Friday, December 17, 2004
Fountain
Floating Cranberries at the Bellagio
Thursday, December 16, 2004
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
Bellagio Xmas
Santa Barbara Botanic Garden
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Santa Barbara Mission Rose
Santa Barbara Mission Gate
Santa Barbara, California
There is in all things an inexhaustible sweetness and purity,
a silence that is a fount of action and joy. It rises up in wordless
gentleness and flows out to me from the unseen roots of all
created being, welcoming me tenderly, saluting me with
indescribable humility.
Thomas Merton
There is in all things an inexhaustible sweetness and purity,
a silence that is a fount of action and joy. It rises up in wordless
gentleness and flows out to me from the unseen roots of all
created being, welcoming me tenderly, saluting me with
indescribable humility.
Thomas Merton
Monday, December 13, 2004
Santa Barbara Mission Rose
Santa Barbara Paseo
Santa Barbara, California
And Joy is Everywhere;
It is in the Earth's green covering of grass;
In the blue serenity of the Sky;
In the reckless exuberance of Spring;
In the severe abstinence of gray Winter;
In the Living flesh that animates our bodily frame;
In the perfect poise of the Human figure, noble and upright;
In Living;
In the exercise of all our powers;
In the acquisition of Knowledge;
In fighting evils...
Joy is there Everywhere.
Rabindranath Tagore
And Joy is Everywhere;
It is in the Earth's green covering of grass;
In the blue serenity of the Sky;
In the reckless exuberance of Spring;
In the severe abstinence of gray Winter;
In the Living flesh that animates our bodily frame;
In the perfect poise of the Human figure, noble and upright;
In Living;
In the exercise of all our powers;
In the acquisition of Knowledge;
In fighting evils...
Joy is there Everywhere.
Rabindranath Tagore
Saturday, December 11, 2004
Friday, December 10, 2004
Santa Barbara Mission Rose
Eiffel Tower
Pier
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Santa Barbara Mission
Santa Barbara, California
At the bottom of the heart of every human being, from earliest infancy until the tomb, there is something that goes on indomitably expecting, in the teeth of all experience of crimes committed, suffered, and witnessed, that good and not evil will be done to him. It is this above all that is sacred in every human being.
Simone Weil
At the bottom of the heart of every human being, from earliest infancy until the tomb, there is something that goes on indomitably expecting, in the teeth of all experience of crimes committed, suffered, and witnessed, that good and not evil will be done to him. It is this above all that is sacred in every human being.
Simone Weil
Getty Center Garden
Los Angeles, California
The bud
stands for all things,
even for those things that don't flower,
for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;
though sometimes it is necessary
to reteach a thing its loveliness,to put a hand on the brow
of the flower,
and retell it in words and in touch,
it is lovely
until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing.
Galway Kinnell
The bud
stands for all things,
even for those things that don't flower,
for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;
though sometimes it is necessary
to reteach a thing its loveliness,to put a hand on the brow
of the flower,
and retell it in words and in touch,
it is lovely
until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing.
Galway Kinnell
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Santa Barbara Mission Rose
Santa Barbara, California
What is meant by “reality”? It would seem to be something very erratic, very undependable—now to be found in a dusty road, now in a scrap of newspaper in the street, now a daffodil in the sun. It lights up a group in a room and stamps some casual saying. It overwhelms one walking home beneath the stars and makes the silent world more real than the world of speech—and then there it is again in an omnibus in the uproar of Piccadilly. Sometimes, too, it seems to dwell in shapes too far away for us to discern what their nature is. But whatever it touches, it fixes and makes permanent. That is what remains over when the skin of the day has been cast into the hedge; that is what is left of past time and of our loves and hates.
Virginia Woolf
What is meant by “reality”? It would seem to be something very erratic, very undependable—now to be found in a dusty road, now in a scrap of newspaper in the street, now a daffodil in the sun. It lights up a group in a room and stamps some casual saying. It overwhelms one walking home beneath the stars and makes the silent world more real than the world of speech—and then there it is again in an omnibus in the uproar of Piccadilly. Sometimes, too, it seems to dwell in shapes too far away for us to discern what their nature is. But whatever it touches, it fixes and makes permanent. That is what remains over when the skin of the day has been cast into the hedge; that is what is left of past time and of our loves and hates.
Virginia Woolf
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