Lofty mountains, reaching the sky
Magnanimous allure,gives a sigh!
Angry geysers vent out steam
Gayful falls dive into the streams
Deep woods, a splendid green
Hauntingly quiet, utterly serene
Butterflies resting in floral laps
Insects whining in Venus fly-traps
Bountiful waves washing ashore
Naughty, playful, screaming a roar
Kissing the sands with frothy jabs
Carrying along snails and crabs.
But pleasures are like poppies spread,
You seize the flow’r, its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow falls in the river,
A moment white–then melts forever;
Or like the borealis race,
That flit ere you can point their place;
Or like the rainbow‘s lovely form
Evanishing amid the storm.
~Robert Burns,
A test of what is real is
that it is hard and rough.
Joys are found in it,
not pleasure.
What is pleasure
belongs to dreams.
~Simone Weil
Blind to Bounds 