via topart500 twitter without a photographer. I found the color version on 500px. Photographer: SoeThanHtike
Description via pt-pt.facebook ” Photographer: Aurélio da Paz dos Reis. Lello Bookshop, 13 January 1906, Carmelite Street.
Among the various figures attending the opening, was Junqueiro War, Abel Botelho, John Grave, Benedict Broom, Aurélio da Paz dos Reis, José Leite de Vasconcelos and Afonso Costa.” Image: AndreGodinho on pinterest
Artemis: Great photo. See high-res. :)
Bonorong Wildlife Sanctuary.
Tasmania. September, 2013.
Distance and antiquity (the emphases of space and time) pull on our hearts. If we are already sobered by the thought that men lived two thousand five hundred years ago, how could we not be moved to know that they made verses, were spectators of the world, that they sheltered in light, lasting words something of their ponderous, fleeting life, words that fulfill a long destiny?
Jorge Luis Borges, Selected Non-Fictions
Images: Jorge Luis Borges, Palermo, 1984, Ferdinando Scianna | Magnum - via: lechbukowski.blog.onet and the last one via: bibliotecaignoria.blogspot
We can reject everything else: religion, ideology, all received
wisdom. But we cannot escape the necessity of love and compassion….
This, then, is my true religion, my simple faith. In this sense, there is no need
for temple or church, for mosque or synagogue, no need for complicated
philosophy, doctrine or dogma. Our own heart, our own mind, is the temple.
The doctrine is compassion. Love for others and respect for their rights and
dignity, no matter who or what they are: ultimately these are all we need.
So long as we practice these in our daily lives, then no matter if we are
learned or unlearned, whether we believe in Buddha or God, or follow some
other religion or none at all, as long as we have compassion for others and
conduct ourselves with restraint out of a sense of responsibility, there is
no doubt we will be happy.
Dalai Lama - born 6 July 1935 :)
Image: The Dalai Lama in exile arrives in Tawang, 1959 (via: blog.lefigaro)
I want you and you are not here. I pause
in this garden, breathing the colour thought is
before language into still air. Even your name
is a pale ghost and, though I exhale it again
and again, it will not stay with me. Tonight
I make you up, imagine you, your movements clearer
than the words I have you say you said before.
Wherever you are now, inside my head you fix me
with a look, standing here whilst cool late light
dissolves into the earth. I have got your mouth wrong,
but still it smiles. I hold you closer, miles away,
inventing love, until the calls of nightjars
interrupt and turn what was to come, was certain,
into memory. The stars are filming us for no one.
Carol Ann Duffy