You ever get the feeling where you have so much to say but you’re not quite sure how to say it? I do. I try to keep a journal, but time, that cruel invention, runs away from me like Peter Pan’s shadow. Sure an’ don’t I know that’s everyone’s favourite excuse.
I was re-reading Emily of New Moon the other day - Anne Shirley’s less famous literary sister. Emily’s a writer, or at least she’s becoming one. Father Cassidy tells her to “keep on”. I remember that sometimes, when I’m not sure what else to do. “Keep on”. Keep going. Don’t you dare ever give up. You can become something, if you work hard enough. God knows how much I want that.
Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t.
I am a lover of beautiful things in a world that is often cruel. You see something ugly and you think oh, how terrible. You see something beautiful and your soul sings. Words move, music moves / only in time; but that which is only living can only die. Words after speech / reach into the silence. Only by the form, the pattern can words or music reach / the stillness, as a Chinese jar still / moves perpetually in its stillness.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year,
Hannah
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