MondaySep 01, 2014
Anne Morrow Lindbergh (June 22, 1906, Englewood, New Jersey - February 7, 2001, Passumpsic, Vermont) was a pioneering American aviator, author, and the spouse of fellow aviator Charles Lindbergh.
There is no aristocracy of grief. Grief is a great leveler.
My passport photo is one of the most remarkable photographs I have ever seen --- no retouching, no shadows, no flattery --- just stark me.
My life cannot implement in action the demands of all the people to whom my heart responds.
It takes as much courage to have tried and failed as it does to have tried and succeeded.
Total freedom is never what one imagines and, in fact, hardly exists. It comes as a shock in life to learn that we usually only exchange one set of restrictions for another. The second set, however, is self-chosen, and therefore easier to accept.
Men kick friendship around like a football, but it doesnt seem to crack. Women treat it like glass and it goes to pieces.
To give without any reward, or any notice, has a special quality of its own.
For happiness one needs security, but joy can spring like a flower even from the cliffs of despair.
The most exhausting thing in life, I have discovered, is being insincere. That is why so much social life is exhausting; one is wearing a mask.
When you love someone ...
We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, of relationships. We leap at the flow of time and resist in terror its ebb. We are afraid it will never return. We insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible in life, as in love, is in growth, in fluidity in freedom.
When you love someone, you do not love them all the time, in exactly the same way, from moment to moment. It is an impossibility. It is even a lie to pretend to. And yet, this is exactly what most of us demand.
For relationships, too, must be like islands. One must accept them for what they are here and now, within their limits islands surrounded and interrupted by the sea, continuously visited and abandoned by the tides. One must accept the serenity of the winged life, of ebb and flow, of intermittency.
Only when a tree has fallen can you take a measure of it. It is the same with a man.
It is nice to think how one can be recklessly lost in a daisy!
But I want first of all in fact as an end to these other desires to be at peace with myself. I want a singleness of eye, a purity of intention, a central core to my life that will enable me to carry out these obligations and activities as well as I can. I want in factto borrow from the language of the saints to live 'in grace' as much of the time as possible. I am not using this term in a strictly theological sense. By grace I mean an inner harmony, essentially spiritual, which can be translated into outward harmony.
One cannot collect all the beautiful shells on the beach; one can collect only a few, and they are more beautiful if they are few.
Only in growth, reform, and change, paradoxically enough, is true security to be found.
The only real security is not in owning or possessing, not in demanding or expecting, not in hoping, even. Security in a relationship lies neither in looking back to what it was, nor forward to what it might be, but living in the present and accepting it as it is now.
One cannot collect all the beautiful shells on the beach.
Women need solitude in order to find again the true essence of themselves.
Arranging a bowl of flowers in the morning can give a sense of quiet in a crowded day - like writing a poem or saying a prayer.
Forsythia is pure joy. There is not an ounce, not a glimmer of sadness or even knowledge in forsythia. Pure, undiluted, untouched joy.
The world has different owners at sunrise ... Even your own garden does not belong to you. Rabbits and blackbirds have the lawns; a tortoise-shell cat who never appears in daytime patrols the brick walls, and a golden-tailed pheasant glints his way through the iris spears.